mad martha

shot film with a nikon slr
summers before technology lazied the art.
fell in love.
strapped her sword to the front of a dirt bike.
earned man’s praise;
“the bitch on wheels.”
got old.
sailed a thirty-seven footer off the cape’s coast.
photographed shelter dogs for a vet;
bargained ache for home.
cared for a shepherd
gifted to a smothered flame.

cries reminiscently of days
she’d bring city kids on the ocean for their first time.

guards sensitive eyes with black glasses.
removes them to get closer to me;
enduring spring within.

“these were old times,” she tells me,
entangling our hands.
“i’m off to the hospital
then a cocktail.”

[washington & lagrange // chinatown]