Before Requiem

when skin folds like scrunched-up paper
dried of ink
telling stories of silences
the mortuary of words
smelling of years with fungus ears
listening to disembodied voices
that say the same old things
of compassion regurgitated
behind walls of wails
eyes look through the retinal blur of even more blurred images
of disappearing backs
leaving behind the wombs that gave them birth

But wait
there is another life
of wine-coloured lipstick covering caked white saliva
the face covered with a shade lighter than pigmentation
and over that a blush so orange
it looks like sunset
the veins on the neck stretch out
in bird-like yawns
diamonds and gold shine on flopping lobes and crinkled fingers
the hair is carefully touched up
roots and strands highlighted with chemicals
the walk a sulk
nostalgia is hidden away
in the rush to grab today
ageless vitamins dot shelves
a waltz plays in the background
the moment has come
to put arms round someone who is not there

I wake up to find
there is still time
to touch every pore
and watch the budding dew

~FV

- - -

Not a very upbeat poem, but the first portion is dedicated to what I saw in old age homes and the second to a well-known actress who was reduced to putting on a face despite sagging fortunes.