Death

How my friend's husband passed away . . .

DEATH
June 10, 2008

Yellowish
and oozy,
squishy between
the toes
is death when
that's pressed down,
splattered, wall-
painting red, grey,
in clumps and
rivers with bumpy
body parts--
A gravy of
life, a stew of
what was, a dump
of old boots and pipe
tobacco-- a graveyard
for a heart that once
loved, gave, toiled,
and served the Lord--
Bible page turning hands
they were-- legs that
walked with God--
soles plaited with
the mud of the
barn
that fed gardens,
supported pastures,
hooves, and a home.
Smiles floating in
puddles . . . Stuck
to pipe stems--
slowly slipping away
in the ooze
of yesterday and long
ago and memories
of the way things
were--
until the ground
swallows it . . .
footprints and knee
caps and flannel shirt
embraces, 5:00
o'clock shadows and
all
gone forever in
one fateful bend
of a tottering knee.