An ancient lady,
stinking with age,
in a house pride
had long fled-
husband gratefully dead-
children orphans by choice-
she stacks collections
of aluminum cans,
reciting labels
like litanies-
Pepsi, Dad’s
Dr. Pepper, Coke-
building pyramids
of appeasement to
some consumer god
who has not smiled
for some eons of her age.
At dark, in the gloom
of a candle,
she sits knitting
shawls of regret
to wrap herself
against the night.



About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
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