I Got Old by Ben Rasnic

A blue ice chill
has settled in the crevices
of these creaky bones.

Each reach has become
a stretch. Each stretch triggers
a snap, crackle, pop

and new meds
to fill
the pill box.

Bar tabs automatically
apply senior discounts
without the asking.

I have now become
that person
who is always the last to know.

Ben Rasnic is originally from Jonesville, Va (population <1000). His published poetry collections include: “Artifacts and Legends”, “Puppet”, “The Eleventh Month” and “Synchronicity”.

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