Is there really a way to be
Politely contemptuous?
I imagine that is what sixty
Years of a failed love
Comes to be when trapped
Inside marriage, sealed
Under plastic hermetic panels.
Does it molder? Or merely fall apart,
Giving way to spores, trying
To seat themselves on new bodies?
Does new life hang onto the edges
And run through until
The squirming masses, fatted on the host,
Are all that anchors the constituent
Parts of the union?
Or is it merely the tenacity
And pride that this one will not be
The one to part before death
Nor die before the other has parted?
No comments:
Post a Comment