Art Heifetz

they hang on
like plants well past their season
dolled up in beehive hairdos
heavy mascara and rouged cheeks
the earth may want them
but damned if they’ll go gently
into that awful night
to be acknowledged only by
the plastic flowers on their graves

ignored by their families
invisible to the young.
they babble on
to strangers and pets
the pollster on the street
who solicits their opinion
the telemarketer to whom they give
five good reasons why
they can´t accept his offer
the cat who looks on quizically
while they describe
in graphic detail
how they made love
on a deserted beach
a lifetime ago

their husbands are long gone
their friends dwindling by the day
but they’re not about to
bring the curtain down
they’d like to get
a little maryjane from Colorado
just to relieve the pain
maybe have a small butterfly
tattooed on their ankle
but DEATH? let the bastard wait