Now she’s the age
that he was then
and just about as spent
tinkering with scansion
one eye on the squirrels
bedazzling themselves
in the back yard.
She wonders what new fiend
is about to shuffle into the room.
Loam-caked nails
& incisors dulled with ancient gore.
May I take your coat?
She ponders what might emerge
prepared as ever to consummate
whatever deal presents itself.
Only this morning her husband asleep
she traced the line from ribs to hipbone
over the newly flattened belly.
Soon he will be on his way.