If the machine that could reverse age
were newly minted in the shops
would she want to slide back
to being a teenager?
ideal if the years dropped off like fruit
but only if you could retain
knowledge of how you planted the tree
and the misshapen
fell with the edibles
as her friend snored
at the dinner table
she thought of time in a swivel chair
making managerial demands
some alluded obsessively to their age
as if they found it
a pimple-free excuse
others botoxed
simulated the nubile
she tried to walk the present with poise
flicking back her heels
pressing her wayward big toes downwards
to run backwards would be to mug time
stalking the forking paths
though wrong doesn’t necessarily
proffer an opposite
everyone wants a certain future he said
it is the only resolution we are absolutely denied
do not destroy your life by looking for it
Hazel Smith is a poet, performer and new media artist and an adjunct professor at Western Sydney University. Her most recent poetry volume is Word Migrants (Giramondo, 2016).
