Age and Grace

Her steps were always slow;
Even in youth she swayed,
Walked with sultry composure
And seductive flow.

Like a heathen goddess,
She tempers movement with grace.
It was not done out of vanity,
But pleasure in the flowing stream of steps
That mark her pace.

The relaxed fulcrum of her hip
Tilts with undulations in the turf;
Her feet tread lightly with a claim
On the summer fields,
On the bending trees
Where beauty still abounds..

She savors the trailing of her skirt
Through unseen paths in drooping grass.
Until the evening mist accrues
From out the forest paths
Caressing her as she yields,
Until she and it are almost one.
Like Whistler’s “breath on a pane of glass”,
She bargains with nature,
Waning to become an aesthetic phantom.

She stops at a window and watches
With a sad smile, the warm light on life,
The laughter, talk and dancing grace
Of her children, who don’t yet know
The bittersweet taste of withered garlands.
Yet she accepts and passes into the dusk.

Now she executes a careful,
Battement fondu as her hands dip
To reach the soaking pods
Of next year’s summer flowers.
Every move must be planned,
To manage every hour.
For they are as precious now,
As her own days,
Fading into glory and reborn,
Into spring and youth’s careless riot.

There are words in a million languages
That pass between our eyes alone
They piece themselves together in my mind
And rest on the tip of my tongue

Was it just the whiskey talking?
Every word you said sounded like ***
Was it just the liquor talking?
Was I just a bit of fun?

Because I know better than to trust or lean
I’m far too smart to count on you for anything
I know not to bother with vulnerabilities
So why did soft words from you instantly break me?

I don’t lean into arms in the dark of night
And suddenly feel that I can breathe
I don’t hold to anyone for any reason
And momentarily feel my mind freeze

But it was quiet for a second, it was silent
There were no hands on my neck, nothing violent
It was bliss for a second, I was peaceful
Like I’d gone to bed starved and woke up full

But

I’m needy at my most honest
I need someone to hold me together
I could fix myself if I wanted
But I’m too tired to bother

I’m jealous at my most real
I’ll wrap around you like gauze
I’ll watch you be you with a smile
While hoping the whole world ***** off

I’ll sit with you like this
With the words you whisper down my neck
I told you I’d never been honest before
So please, don’t leave me a mess

it's the same as before
or the other time
or the time before that.
here's a ****
and here's a ****
and here's trouble.

only each time
you think
well now I've learned:
I'll let her do that
and I'll do this,
I no longer want it all,
just some comfort
and some ***
and only a minor
love.

now I'm waiting again
and the years run thin.
I have my radio
and the kitchen walls
are yellow.
I keep dumping bottles
and listening
for footsteps.

I hope that death contains
less than this.

We came with wet
eyes, with teeth bright
as planets; we came like
weather, like daylight, hair
damp and skin flushed.

We came like sunup.

We woke the birds up.

and invited the moon into the
room – a stranger, she stole
through the night to our chambers,
a bevy of damsels to carry her candles.
She lit up our eyes; she lit up our skin
like our skin was the sky.