When I am an old woman,
I will not wear purple.
Just a pair of thigh-high orthopedic boots
And a tattoo across my belly that states,
I will leave this world as I entered it:
I will not allow my life
And the marks it has left on me
To wither unused in a high-collared attic.
I will walk downtown as if the sidewalk owes me something
And you will see what breasts look like
When they are put to good use
Softened by sex
I will not walk gently into that good night,
But run joyfully into the shocking daylight.
When the police run after me,
I will not allow them to resist arrest
As they dart their eyes everywhere
But into my eyes
And onto my skin.
"We don't want to arrest you, ma'am."
Oh, but I want you to.
I want those cuffs around my wrists
My hands against the car.
I want everyone who passes to stop
Wonder what I was like when I was younger
Think me oddly erotic.
I want them to wonder
About their own grandparents
The old ladies at church
What makes them shout in the darkness.
I want the onlookers to see
That my flesh has been pressed by loving hands
That my cheeks are rosy with his attention
That his breath in my ear is not a relic, but reality
For this old gal.
I want him to fight his way through the melee
Wearing nothing but his boots
And a tattoo across his belly that says,
"Please Seat Yourself."
When I am an old woman
I will remind you
That I am still a woman.
The sun will set, its colors reflecting on my bare skin,
Draping me in purple.
A former National Poetry Slam champion, Kim Holzer is also a playwright with two productions to her credit. Currently, Kim teaches eighth grade language arts in Durham.