A Full Life

In a high-rise flat in the south of Rome
she doesn’t prep her veg
like Jamie or Jordon
Instead she chops absently
each chunk a stranded tribute
to the uneven epicness of her life:
When I am old
will I still chop veg into tiny pieces
as quickly as I can?

Tristan Moss

If you have any comments on this poem, Tristan Moss would be pleased to hear from you.