Epistemology
Knowing comes like an old man,
slowly, taking the flat road around,
too weak in the knees
to walk over stones,
damn sure of itself when it gets here.
It complains of all the bother,
teeth yellowed, face bristled
with reason.
What have you got now,
it asks, slumping into the rocker,
taking its aspirin with rye.
You thought it might
give comfort. Instead,
you’ll have to help it eat and bathe,
listen to it snore, be there
if it wakes.
Rhonda Pettit is from Northern Kentucky and teaches creative writing and literature at UC Raymond Walters College. Rhonda’s poems have been published recently in Seneca Review, Colere, The Raven Chronicles and Trivia.