Old Age Surprise

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She was an old lady, 

a wad of history and aphorisms, 

not like us, not angry, not restless.  

A sweet sag in pink felt, 

with slippers and slippers and slippers 

and crochet blankets, 

and an ornamental frog 

of substantial diameter. 

One phone call, 

she joked about using it 

as a weapon. 

She liked grey cats, 

and Northcote park, 

and the day next door’s boy 

took his earring out for good.

She would stir only sometimes, 

like a rustle, and mostly stayed 

inside, to hum.

We were surprised to find

upon her death 

the corpse of her husband 

out on the patio, 

wrapped in several tarpaulins

to mask the smell of skin and rot.