Myth

17 September 2006 at 4:45 pm (2000s, Poetry, Undated)

Three old women
dance around a tree
scared of life,
fearing death.

Should they rest or
dance until they drop?
One sits down,
the others dance.

The next stops cold
and climbs a fence.
The third samboes
into butter.

“Come,” says the first,
“let’s speak of days
when all the songs
had not been sung.”

“I’d rather sit here
than sing songs
with you of things
I cannot fathom.”

“Absurd,” snorts the first
“I’d rather melt
than teeter
there like you.

“Let’s live for today,”
she continues,
spreading the third
upon her bread.

“I’ll stay right here,”
quavers the other,
“on my perch
where I feel safe.”

Morning comes after dark,
winter trees are stark.
Two old women out of three
eye each other wearily.