The Old Ones


The old ones, the old ones are coming,

keep coming, by cane and wheelchair,

their teeth in glasses, their thinning hair,

their seizures and strokes, their stained underwear,

hard now of hearing (their ears full of hair),

complaining of pains, medicaid, medicare.

They are coming, keep coming, with vacant looks,

with worn-out bibles and large-print books,

with photo albums of long-dead friends,

coming to visit in hospital beds,

telling, retelling their tales of old times,

their skin gone slack

and spotted and veined,

coming to see you

coming to stay,

coming, coming

to be with you,

to be, to be you,

to be you.

You Might Also Enjoy

We Carry the Earth

Grisel Y. Acosta

We bring the harvest and lay it at an altar
of bread crust, pierced gold earrings, and the bones of our first born Banana. . .


The Champions

Myronn Hardy

“The black players of France are also black players for the entire black world.”
—Grégory Pierrot Too much rain. . .


Further Reading

Heads Up: We recently updated our privacy policy to clarify how and why we collect personal data. By using our site, you acknowledge that you have read and understand this policy.