Let Up

Widow’s walk
too far from the water mark,
putting on
the clothes of a ghost
wandering small hours
before the sun
worrying about my age
afraid to pray
how many more years
before I’m
better than even?
and then I die
every time I wake up
and I’m not rich,
I have to
do the dreck
and eat it
with honey or mustard
before I ride the train
with all of us again.