Frères humains, qui après nous vivez,
N’ayez les cœurs contre nous endurcis,
Car, si pitié de nous pauvres avez,
Dieu en aura plus tôt de vous mercis.
Vous nous voyez ci attachés, cinq, six:
Quant à la chair, que trop avons nourrie,
Elle est piéça dévorée et pourrie,
Et nous, les os, devenons cendre et poudre.
De notre mal personne ne s’en rie;
Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absoudre!
“
We all have one foot in the grave, the poet insisted.
Well, if that’s the case, the pretty girl drawled, I should get a pedicure every week instead of just a coupla weeks.
They looked at her slim, tanned feet in their strappy sandals. It was summer. The grass was green as jade and freshly cut.
Who had been the first to notice, they wondered later, that swelling on her instep? The swelling, tender to the touch, that, even she would later say, hadn’t been there yesterday.
“
Joy Williams | “Winter”