Here at the OFH
       

I live in a place
that's all about
preservation.
Holding on.
Moving slowly.
Breathing slowly.
Breathing.
It's an old folks'
home. They
call you at
10 each day
to see if you
made it through
the night. They
have a lovely
dining room
where everybody
congregates to
gossip about who
is sick, who is
failing, who's in
the hospital.
There's lots of
sunshine and lots
of gloom, lots of
what passes
for wisdom. But
the best thing
at the OFH is
the perfect solitude
of living alone in
my beautiful big
apartment, living
my life as if I've
got some chance
to keep it.

Tweet
Copyright © 2016 Kathryn Starbuck All rights reserved
from Birmingham Poetry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission