Her Life

Love blossomed roundly

Into a cluster of cells

That wriggled and danced.

 

Little girl baby,

Puckered red raspberry,

Sucking with urgence.

 

Gingham dresses and

Ponytails and sweet sugar:

Childhood memories.

 

Her teenage years

Were idyllic only to

Those who envied her.

 

Red ink and red blood

Both lose their appeal after

They come too often.

 

Kisses meant nothing

When his eyes were open

And they always were.

 

She plead guilty to

Growing up and choosing wrong

That hot summer night.

 

Too much coffee

And ink spilling on fingers

Marked her college years.

 

By this time kisses were

Like stale bakery bread

That you wonder why you eat.

 

Once she thought she found love:

Sheets tangled and keys turned

But then he said the wrong thing.

 

Dragging lacquered nails

Across the muted sky, she

Fled into the night.

 

Love stopped when money dried up.

She buttoned crisp shirts and

Dyed her hair a respectable color.

 

She bought a dog

As if that would solve her problems

It only dirtied the floor.

 

Middle-age came but she wouldn’t

Admit it so she bleached her teeth

And secretly devoured chocolate.

 

She met, married, loved

Grew bored, pretended,

And then divorced.

 

Onions made her cry

More than men did these days

But she didn’t admit it.

 

Wrinkles arrived, dry and deep.

She was surprised to see them one morning

While looking in the mirror,

 

“Look your age” they said.

But she refused to paint her face

With dust or red rust.

 

“I’ve always been a bit of a rebel”

That’s what she told herself

And she believed it.

She moved somewhere warm

And waited to die while she

Watched other people play golf.

 

She gave up waiting to die

And found love again

Because after all isn’t life all about love?

 

When death finally came for her,

She met him not unwillingly

But she did not welcome him.

 

Slowly her cells dispersed,

Burrowing into the earth

And seeping into the sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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