I once saw a woman
old as she was young
Her spine jutted out like a plastic comb
She wore her skin like she had draped it gently
Her face was a swarm of birds
Moving like a murmur under her hair
I searched for her eyes
But they weren’t there
She left them on the face of a man
She had once loved so long ago
Her hands were grasping
Trying to hold the remnants of her time
She was digging her heels in
She was digging her nails in
Only to make holes in all she had left
I heard she died later that winter
That old woman