gone to seed

by underswansea


he had lost his toughness
he had grown weak and old
without notice
in the morning
while breaking up the dogs
the youngest turned
and bit through his thumb nail
there was no need to scold
the young dog slunk
the old dog licked her wounds.

in the evening
she still looked good
and showed it
the smoke rolled in
like it does in august
she kissed his neck
he was annoyed
at first
but she persisted
it wasn’t long before
he knew she was serious
somehow he was young again
surprised at how easy
and wonderful it was.

she was asleep
the breeze carried fall
she snored quiet
he wondered what she saw in him
the old dog woke up
panting in the darkness
no worse for wear
did a circle
and fell back asleep.

bishop hoped for sleep
but knew it wouldn’t come
he had lost his toughness
and somehow
had grown weak and old
without notice.