She was nearing 70 years, She said

She grew up poor, elsewhere, She said

And moved to a city

on the Great Lakes, She said

She had small talk

to match her limited, incurious mind

She had a wide, open mouth with sharp teeth

her ears closed

except to gossip

her eyes closed

except to covet

her biting, venomous speech

poisoning innocent, impressionable hearts

She, by choice, deaf to injustice

[except what injures her]

and, also to justice /

She, by choice, blind to truth,

and also, to untruths

[except what favors her] /

She by choice,

had

no grace

no humility

no gratitude /

She spoke of terminating life

before even speaking of its creation

She was hardened to the point of petrification

in seven decades, a brittled fossil,

instead of a saintly relic, preciously in-situ

she was not a Grandmother

although her daughter may’ve had twin daughters

and her unbirthed sons may’ve fathered many sons

she now sabotages the sands on a silver beach with her hidden, rusted barbs

she now defiles the lovely wet meadow with her gross incontinence

the discontent of the chronically thirsty emanates unceasingly from her breath

she has despoiled both her family and humanity with her continued existence

she is not a Grandmother, not a Crone /

and she will die one day /soon/

and

she will become a gull

scavenging and devouring detritus on a barren beach

forever

in the next, life.

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