However you may idealize the human form, there is one reality that wins out in the end—It will moulder and rot and decay back to the dust. There is nothing we can hold onto. Everything must go, even our most cherished fancies.
Grace
take your long lithe figure
your bright ruby smile
and take your pliant stride
filled with suggestion
take your smooth soft skin
carved from lily petals
and your slender toned belly
set in round swaying hips
and take your gentle cheeks
your life-altering glance
fixed like glimmering jewels in
Athenian curves
take it all off
to the charnel grounds
and meditate awhile
amid the waste
fill your porcelain nostrils with
the stench of what’s to come
and fill your deep brown eyes with
the reality of your perfection
