Poetry

On growing old, or mapping knowledge growth

Knowledge grows old
Faster than you know
—unknown

Hang on
Maps and poetry
Wordsworth had a view

Shakespeare, too, of
Things wrinkling
Where 

Would you
If you could
Make a point¹

Draw the lines
If this was your
North

Where
Were the dragons you meant
To have tamed

I can still see their
Feathers flutter about
Muttering: let’s hope

We swap perspectives
I paint a ship on your wall
And you a chart on mine

Let’s grow old
Together, pointing out
These fault lines

¹If you were given
Where the Queen once dropped her handkerchief
Your own Jerusalem

Mara-Daria Cojocaru