Jake's Flea Market

on the warm days of summers past
and on the warm days 
in the hope   for many summers to come

my crutch is left
in my chamber and i stroll
almost old to market 
square to buy a pound of wheat

now on this cold and winter day   i age

my marrows ache   and the meetings of my bones pain

i lean on the aide of my walking stick to my offices

while you walk to the market for me
another slips and falls on the frost

he grows ancient before he’s found 
embedded in a snowbank

feebled he’s carried
home and laid out in his infirmity

let the murderer come with his vial

before the invalid’s servant comes
and with an arm 
under the shoulder of the fleshed 
skeleton of decline   and with 

the other arm   under the failure
of an old man’s knees   lifts 
and arranges the frail 
in an arrangement   of straw in a wheelbarrow

wheels him out into the patio shade

suffering would want the murderer to pour the poison

were i he   i would too