Monarch

Monarch

Not much to say after so many years

grooming for the sickle and bone.

Three years of throwing lead and shooting pool,

enough beer to tank the English navy,

I sit beneath this tree, tongue tied and breathing

like a fifties iron lung perched

next to a Red Cross sign

swinging like two bulbous breasts in a hot breath breeze.

Youth laugh like life is forever.

You and I know life is only a Monarch

chasing time through a lovely flower garden.