doesn't matter if you don't
                   remember

no figs today
no figs yet

to be old, then, is this
face that remembers

all your favorite wrinkles
falling into place

old lines sinking
when the bodies press
and the mattress gives

your tears know
which way to go

down
all of these
familiar crinkles

you watch your work

all these roads being washed
all washed, and clean

the beggar needed
more than this, to hug a tree
shriveled summer leaves

dips in voice hiding
the details when you and dad
answer with a lie