October 15, 2012      

Everything that gets old by Eric Silverman

Gradually forgets
Falling asleep in this chair
giving way to tinnitus
the sound of angels singing through a sprinkler

Fighting age, jogging in the empty
Swimming, in the bay, pre-empted by
a daily walk

My father’s whiskered shadow
from the white room above
the bathroom mirror
the kind of order that deposits
driftwood, along the beach
and here, a blanched hue of stone.

About the author:

Eric Jason Silverman is a poet, essayist and novelist. He lives in San Francisco with his wife and daughter.

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