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More poems by Elizabeth JenningsElizabeth Jennings | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments (7) | Books by Elizabeth JenningsBooks by Elizabeth Jennings

One Flesh

Elizabeth Jennings

Lying apart now, each in a separate bed, 
He with a book, keeping the light on late, 
She like a girl dreaming of childhood, 
All men elsewhere - it is as if they wait 
Some new event: the book he holds unread, 
Her eyes fixed on the shadows overhead. 

Tossed up like flotsam from a former passion, 
How cool they lie. They hardly ever touch, 
Or if they do, it is like a confession 
Of having little feeling - or too much. 
Chastity faces them, a destination 
For which their whole lives were a preparation. 

Strangely apart, yet strangely close together, 
Silence between them like a thread to hold 
And not wind in. And time itself's a feather 
Touching them gently. Do they know they're old, 
These two who are my father and my mother 
Whose fire from which I came, has now grown cold? 


Submitted by Gnute

Added: 21 Jul 2002 | Last Read: 26 Apr 2018 3:22 PM | Viewed: 19334 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/5623/ | Viewed on 26 April 2018.
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