Inching Into Madness, His Old Wife Still Sees Certain Things With Perfect Clarity
He's dull as dribble; when he speaks,
by Frank Fagan
he reeks; his hair is falling out
in clumps. He's swag-bellied and sway-
backed. His rig hangs upside
down like a bat.
But he does
his chores, and ignores
my curses, and the other women
leave him alone.