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