David J Costello

Methuselah

Life clings to me.
Disfiguring the man I used to be.
Emaciated, drawn and slack.
People stare and children shout abuse
behind my back.
I can’t unpick or tease apart
the complicated knot
that used to be my heart.
I hardly eat or drink yet I persist.
Mortality’s not easy to resist.

I grow, wood slow.
Beneath my skin
the green years turn
to cork and wear me
like an Arctic winter
wears a tree.
Its cold compressed
this fossil out of me.

Everyone I’ve known has died.
I’ve lasted longer than their
gravestones and their griefs.
They populate the afterlife
with their beliefs.
I’ve had enough longevity.
I need to die.
The world won’t miss a man
who cannot cry.

Copyright © David J Costello 2016

David J. Costello is a previous winner of the International Welsh Poetry Competition and a prize-winner in last year’s Troubadour international Poetry Competition. His latest pamphlet, No Need For Candles, is due from Red Squirrel Press in September.

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About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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