Old Father

the aroma of old people pepper air with putrid perspiration tainting, we sit once again on settees loosely puckered by pummelled time like skin hung brittly on bones, limbs locked on rusted pulleys prising on old hinges heaving heavy levers. rites are routinely enacted with drinks placed on beer mats old stories retold like fisherman tales spun from seaward treks Past photographs framed gallery the white walls of graduations and weddings Each portrait embossed edged with vellum a masterpiece of genes some forty five years ago but present now in the fire sharing their warmth who else could share the embers beyond years. You prod the coal fire like grey ashen coals, relics spring scarlet as the clock ticks, seeking the best ways over life's sharpened, rocky paths that would wound, scarring shins rasping breath as a summit was viewed clouded A contest on aging Emile Pinet 1 June 2019