Beloved at 51

[for Dave]

Not born a beauty.

Cheeks planed and plunging,
nose arched like a Roman-bred mare’s.

Life scars, broken bones,
time’s chasms and contradictions.

Faith outweighs truth.

Learn to dine alone,
eyes shielded by my forelock.

I can do this.
No flinching.

The book, the meal, the day,
wearing solitude like my prayer shawl.

When we meet, late lovers,
we celebrate.

A new year,
even as I count on my fingers those already flown.

Beautiful, you tell me,
and in a certain light,

I believe you.

~ dee Hobsbawn-Smith

dee Hobsbawn-Smith is a chef, poet, author, educator and advocate based in Calgary, where she is president of Slow Food Calgary. She is a three-time alumna of The Sage Hill Writing Experience in Lumsden, SK. She writes food, fiction and poetry when she isn’t cooking or painting.

One Response to “Beloved at 51”

  1. Sweetie, you have to give up this idea that you are somehow, ugly.

    David and I agree.

    You are beautifull.

    Suck it up.

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