wizened, gnarly fingers glided over patterned walls
velvet and wood, flabby skins meet printed daises
fingertips helllo'ed their greetings, dear friends giving each other
air kisses, from puckered lips and fuschia-stained teeth
the old lady still know how to style eh?

what is she searching for?
ah, there, on the kitchen table
a cup of tea left by that sweet girl that looks for her
old lady still remembers the perfumed air the girl carries around,
like a mini purse with her cigarette case or notebook that matches her shoes

arthritic knees wobbled and swayed,
the jazz masters would swoon over the rhythm
why has she not carried the stick with her?
dear lady, white veils over your corneas
are no match with satin nightgowns you know?

her teeth she grits, jack the frost visits her an hour ago
he left her banks of snow to carve sculptures of angels on her lawn
she knows the are two more visitors before the night is through
she felt it, as she felt blood, the still lakes coursing through her
ripples they made over saggy skin , putting circles of red all over her jowly necks


here they come, wings beating, noise over feet planting on tiles
they introduced themselves, as if all those encounters beforehand
are to be dismissed as casual and insignificant, oh but she knows them well
her husbands and sons all wax rhapsodic during their times,
though she is surprised that Hades has 
come personally to welcome her, all the others merely mentioned Hermes

would they care for tea, the girl has prepared a pot
only chamomile and sugar, she's afraid
they voiced their no's, they are quite pressed for time,
Hermes is due for an appointment in a minute at another town
and Persephone is making dinner 

ah, should we get going then,
the old lady has been waiting a while you see
she's been very patient all this years
she proffered her hands, a beatific smile forming
and an aria clumped in her throat

Black, ominous cloud of flies surround the table
the food is rotten, the drink stale

red red wind carrying dead leaves blew
carpeting cracked mud floor
low ceiling beam abrade his scalp
scabs flutter down as he moves forward
hands outstretched, white sunlight glinting over yellow'd blindfolds
crutches failed him as Fates and Gods did
he fell and fell, never once hitting the ground
the dream is without an end
it is his now
always and forever.

What is the price for honesty?
What must be bartered or traded?
What must be taken or given away?
What must be shed or expelled?
What must be imbued and irrigated?
What must be swallowed or kept?

or is it a How?
How to yield and submit?
How to bow and bend?
How to desist and retreat?
How to leave and let be?
How to shake and fake?

All know this
Yet nobody speaks.

The train leaves at 9
Sharply at 9
Don't be tardy, you hear me?
Leave the doll behind dearest
The tea set is inside your bag
Let me fix your hat, there now
We're all set
Kiss your father
No, don't cry, he'll be fine there, won't he?
See, he nods and smiles, it'll be alright
What, love?
Oh, someday we will be back, someday
Your doll will look after the house for us
Wave and don't look back
See the road ahead?
Keep your head up
and here we go.

I do not know

So I do not speak

The wan moon speaks
but her light is pale

I need light
Foreboding has splashed grey over my mind

I need my mind
It is empty now

I need empty
Fullness has thrown a noose over my chest

I need my chest
My heartbearts sounds too obscure

I need clear
The spaces is too cluttered

I need clutter
I see nothingness

I need
I need-