One Poem by Michael Maul

Aging with Poems

It was like a gift to myself from the past,
this poem recently unearthed
but new again to me.

I was twenty when I wrote it
for the me now of seventy-three.

The world can change a lot
around recovered poems
though this one’s course stayed true,
time-jumping from time passed
to perform a rescue.

Light and energetic when writ.
But by the time it found me,
I wasn’t hungry any more.

In doneness a poem becomes fact:
no longer a flowering of possibilities,
just an essence of what it is.

Published now,
we are left to stand
awkwardly next to each other
like long-lost friends

posing for a snapshot at the boarding gate,
with eyes pumped bright
for a poem I wrote
that reappeared
and now must leave again.

We love each other no less
for the passage of time
but have no final words to share.

We kiss foreheads instead,
and wish sweet dreams,
as I watch set out
a version of me
once more flying away.


Michael Maul lives in Bradenton, Florida. His poems have previously appeared in numerous literary publications and anthologies.

In 2018 he authored Dancing Naked in Front of Dogs, a full-length collection of poetry.  One of the included works, “Anniversary Poem”, became a nominee in the 2019 “Best of the Net” competition.

In 2019 he published his first chapbook, Birds Who Eat French Fries.

He is a graduate of the Ohio University creative writing program.

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