|
Gone
His last clear memory
was sailing over the hood of a car
from his bicycle seat,
brain reduced to that of a child,
this man who used to be
so brilliant, the top of his game,
an undeterred star.
Earlier, after my divorce,
he offered me his services,
said he was a good lover,
would please me
should I let him.
He didn't take my hand.
No attempt at a kiss.
A reasonable transaction,
like he ran his job, his therapy
sessions to placate the woman
who was still his wife.
I said no.
I wonder if he remembers me now,
if he would cut out a valentine,
hand me chocolate candies
if I appeared by his side.
Would sweet stirrings in his groin
remind him vaguely
of the man he once was.
Pris Campbell
© 2015
Published in Outlaw Poetry Network, Sept 2015
Return to Poems
Return to Homepage
|