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Her 91st Year

 

Her 91st Year

 

She ached for 4 mouths

One for Chardonnay

One for Stones

One for smoking

One for talking

She’d waited decorously for 5pm

That she might break her alcohol fast

 

Straight to the brain

That pleasure might end

The pain

Of lonely days

& the world no longer participable

 

Her friend arrived

With a dutiful swag

He could relate

Though half her age

A story less strange

If you know the need

& if you think you don’t

Perhaps you’re not conscious

Of your own

Pleasure & pain

& the dying that awaits

Master & Slave

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

 

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