SamadhiMuse

      Lying there beside her, I smell her skin, the warmth of her
         I see, or imagine, in the gray light, the wrinkles
            I've put there and I feel the storm of our lives
      She's told me her period's wrong and that her breasts hurt.
         For months we've tried to conceive
            and come to this.
      I put my hand on her back beneath the covers
         intimate against her sleeping
            I would know her skin anywhere.
      I begin to feel age and our mortality.
         Even now my body says I press too hard
            that I cannot become what I once was.
      And she who grows more precious to me each year
         grows more ripe for He who reaps us all.
            I touch her back and feel her breath ... in this moment.
                              Gallagher
                              3 April 83, SJC

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 3rd, 1983 at 00:02 and is filed under 1983, Poetry Collective, Rose, San Juan Capistrano. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.