being patently
what it is:
two
succeeding one, old age
displacing youth—
no hiroglyphs
to illustrate the march
of our days,
no metaphors
to explicate as proof—
and definitely
no lessons to tease
from eternity's
hashed miscellany;
our tongues
fuzzing over,
turning gray-green
from atrophy—
by which you'd think
I might really mean
apathy—but no,
I don't,
sadly.
