Condemned

She sat on her porch,
all knock-kneed and fruitless.
Her skin was folded
with edges of not so nice
tomfoolery of time.
Flesh like origami...
without the pretty swans.
Her freshly pressed
garments hung
from her bones..
flying buttresses of
days gone by.
The city folk shuttered
the walls her long dead
daddy had built.
Sticky notes flapped
upon her doors and
window panes - declaring
her departure,
but she wouldn't read them.
The chaperones came.
Parcels neatly stacked
by her feet,
draped with a sheet,
looked easy enough to move.

"We can only take two"
the chaperones said.

She believed differently.

"Oh, then I have one for
each of you" she stated.

Her lanky arms reached
tenderly under the sheet,
and drew double steel barrels,
the ones her long
dead daddy used on the farm.
Many a head of cattle met
this fate,
landing on the family table
in slabs of steak mixed
with potatoes and gravy.
Ah, that was memories ago.

"We can only take two"
the chaperones had said.
So there, on her porch,
she shot them dually dead.