An Old Man

AN OLD MAN ON HIS LOVER

When I became an old man,
I told my sons
Stories of a woman
I loved,
A long, long time.
I told them of her
Skin like untrod snow,
Hot as a blacksmith’s forge
To the touch,
And her crystal eyes
Like deep, placid water.
I told them how those
Eyes burned
When she laughed.

I told my sons,
As they will tell their sons,
Of the bruises that still arise each
Mid-winter, unbidden,
Unseen, unwanted,
Reminders of the time
She went west, toward
Warmer shores,
And I stayed East,
To fight my wars,
And find my fabled
Treasure in the ice.
I cried sometimes,
As I told my sons about this
Love, but I laughed much more often,
And that, too, brought fresh
Tears to spill down my cheeks
The way her lips once did,
With such unabashed
Sweetness.

My voice rose as I spoke,
As if it, too, was caught in the same throes
Of passion
Our young bodies once were,
Writhing together
In what better poets would call
Rhythmic, loving, beautiful
But better men would call
A flailing sort of motion,
Replete with twisted limbs
And throbbing back.
I was more poet than man
In those days.

I told my sons of
Summer spent and winter
Suffered,
Of spring and autumnal
Wishes.
I told them so they
Would feel the way that
All the world must when they
Look upon this love of mine,
The way I feel.
And thought I never told them,
Your name,
My boys are anything but fools.


AN OLD MAN ON HIS LATE WIFE

I am Shamed, my love.
You would deny me my despair
But listen.
Allow an old man his sorrow.
I can already feel the ache in my bones,
The cold seeping in everywhere.
I have long been the enemy of Time.

I’ve searched a thousand worlds
Of elves and dwarves, trolls and gnomes
Of dragons. Always searching
For my Fountain of Youth.
I have not yet decided which side to take.
I am not ready to meet God.

But I have searched in vain
Because you were my Fountain.
You knew which side to choose, found the Paradise
That I had Lost.
I will keep searching.