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      August 19, 2020Peeling Potatoes in Puerto VallartaLynne Knight

      I used to remember everything.
      I could see pages from books
      in my mind but now it’s all a blur
      & words I’ve looked up an hour ago
       
      mean nothing to me.
                C’est une lapalissade de dire que
      je vieillis. Or, It’s stating the obvious
                to say that I’m getting old. Today,
       
      walking the dog, I pretended
      I was thirty, the dog my dog back then,
      black, not blonde as she is. For a while
      it worked, I forgot myself, but why
       
      leave the body now when every minute
      should count, every breath, & we know
      this is how we should be living—only
      groceries, laundry, floors that need
       
      mopping—who wants to attend
      to all that with full consciousness?
      It’s supposed to be spiritual to peel
      potatoes if what you’re doing is
       
      peeling potatoes, in the moment,
      as they say, but why not be elsewhere,
      frolicking in the sun, your memory supple,
      your body lithe again & every bit thirty?

      from #68 - Summer 2020

      Lynne Knight

      “One of my poet friends said several years ago that she was sick of reading poems by women who were just whining about getting old. I thought at the time that I’d never end up writing such poems. But I’m getting old, and here they come—not, I hope, without humor and hope.”