The Diminishing Road...

The front door remained closed.
It smelled of dust and disuse.
    We knew this was to be expected.
    We were not surprised.
She vanquished him, just as she had vanquished their fathers,
Her upright torso motionless as that of an idol.
We would see her at a window, for a moment,
Sibilant and Macabre...
Dear,
    Inescapable,
        Impervious,
            Tranquil,
                and Perverse...
Too virulent, too furious, to die...
    We knew this was to be expected.
    We were not surprised.

Rustling...
Craned silk behind jalousies closed to the sun...
That faint, invisible dust, dry and acrid...
Sibilant,
    Tranquil...
    We knew this was to be expected.
    We were not surprised.

Her front door remained closed,
A sort of respectful attention, for a fallen monument...
We would see her at a window...

A body, long submerged in motionless water...
    Cold, haughty black eyes...
    Profound, fleshless grin...
Strained....                            Impervious...
Rotted beneath what was left...
Under the skull and bones...
Lifting it's stubborn, couquettish decay above the cotton wagon...
...A vague resemblence to those Angels in church windows...

    Tragic,
        Serene...
                                           Dry,
                                               Acrid...
    We knew this was to be expected.
    We were not surprised.

The front door remained closed.