For Mary Jo*

For Mary Jo

Time weaving its unkind magic

As it rewinds snakelike through all memory.

The etched wrinkles across the brow

The face a declining neighborhood

Replacing once proud mansions

Now sub divided sub let or used beyond all recognition.

Her spark was gone.

the angry one that held her together for so long.

When death came, he was too late

She was already gone.