Really, There Are No Good Solutions to the Problems They Face

Feb 23

For Mickey

Two old women, friends for over four decades,
have been meeting this way for years at a boutique
hotel in a horse racing town in upstate New York.
Immense hanging ferns draped across a front-facing,

pristine porch, anchor four days of talking
about their joys and sorrows, their evolving lives,
in the company of their silent companion, death.
She keeps a tight lip but takes up space just the same.

They have a long history of speaking truthfully,
however old age has brought clarity & frankness
while pickpocketing painless joints & smooth skin.
Their problems are real: heart attack, limited mobility,

spouses with shrinking vision & memory loss,
family members’ addictions. And their own, if you
count sweets. They exist in an intemperate whirlpool
of uncertainty. They laugh. Their voices tremble.

People notice the prolonged, perhaps too explicit
(suprapubic catheters!), perhaps too loud, talk.
Hearing isn’t what it used to be. Easy answers
are not what they used to be either. They offer ideas

the other might consider: What about a home health aide?
But by now, every cell of their bodies is certain
they must accommodate the dilemmas they face,
and more, not yet known—nor even imagined.