To Wrinkle
by Jenna Moses
To Wrinkle
is to create a fold, cause some
thing to be imperfect in appearance,
in stature, in grace.
A blemish on the otherwise smooth
face of a woman whose tired eyes
cry lines through her cheeks, across her
forehead, slither down to decrepit hands that
grip desperate onto life but cannot stop the hiss
of years wringing out like sheets on a windy day.
Life becomes a flat line,
which doesn’t look so flat pressed against skin.
It is soft, speckled, requesting an iron be taken
to perfect
the folds.
