send your old men
into the midden heap
away from things of beauty
so their rheumy stares
do not infect,
so their dry hands
do not desiccate and destroy.

send your old women
to high-walled communes,
to loveless cat-filled castles
for they no longer yearn,
no dreams of flesh and kisses,
they are done with the earth
and the things in it.

send your aged away,
they sprang to life from the dust
a decrepit species unto themselves
and know not the rapture of youth;
loathe them and be thankful
you will be dew-kissed nubiles forever
far from the filth of the dying.

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