Tell the doctor all about the wounds,

friend one, cancer

friend two heart,

and the list goes on.

I don’t mend well,

and I’m waking, thinking about them.

 

One mentor suddenly looks ancient

and it hurts,

it hurts to see him

gray hair, slow moving.

 

I thought I knew the sound of old

but now I know for certain,

it’s Hades hating and leaning out,

it’s curtains blowing in the windy air.

 

I could pay him

for his trip,

before the Libitinarii appear.

 

Dave Barber

20 Dec 08

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