OLD LOVE
She bathes the flaccid skin,
massaging its softness
tracing the outline of
once powerful muscles
cleaning what has become
three soft sacks.
Carefully,
she wipes his eyelids,
so small strands of bedding
are not trapped there.
The things he did
with his strong body
she now does for him
His eyes,
large and trusting
watch as she gives
his weekly shave.
Later,
wiping his cerealed chin
his old smile flashes as
tremblingly, he reaches
to fondle her breast
Picnic Basket
That first bright, balmy day of May
stepping into the shop’s dimness
she saw it
woven boughs of woodsy brown
a sign for hope
melted the last of her ice
after dark and wintry days
Sturdy handles of shellacked bamboo
would support the weight of many
repasts
cloth spread under a sun-dappled
tree
surely he---short, tall, light,
dark, thick or thin
would complete the vision the basket
inspired
It was perfect
its fullness symbolizing new
beginnings
to hold the
plates,
cups,
baguettes,
cheese,
not one but two chilled wines
She saw the leisurely afternoons
titillating talk
unintended or intended touching
feeding each other
with smiles that could not stop
anticipation of the loveliness to
come
When had the dream been sacrificed
to practicality?
The inspired hope,
slats warping, broken
faded lining torn
now a repository for magazines
lost link to love unfound
