Dear Old by Marion

My treasures on my kitchen altar.  I love the fish bone I found on a beach in Galveston shaped like Jesus on the cross.

Dear Old:

I fucking HATE you.

The pain, the dry everything

that once was not,

the gravity, the falling,

the feigning, the lack of,

the emptiness, the clicking

& clacking of my bones,

the no-fucking-hormones,

the ugliness of bare,

the loss, the LOSS, THE LOSS,

the fat, the jowls, the bags,

the feeling like a hag,

the stench of death

where once was life,

the strife,

the longing for an ending,

the end of beginnings,

the day's glued to days,

the pain, the pain, the endless PAIN!

the regret, THE REGRET(!)

the no money, no vacation,

the stagnation,

the _______.

11/4/16