He is babbling through teeth of stone,
drooling in veins that spread
across dormant, bone-wet ground.
Relief lies dammed
with last year’s deciduous puke.
Ignorant pools burst
into careless tendrils slithering
toward a creek that will carry
the Old Man away.
A soggy, water-laden sponge swallows
Every footstep and threatens
To steal your shoe. You pull away
But not without layers of phlegm.
She is cantankerous,
ridding Herself of his purity –
a mass of ashes and smut and filth.
Unmannered and ruthless,
the old Dame’s way.