My neighbors return from
their walk around the block.
He’s 92, she’s 87.
In spite of his sciatica
he walks with her. Last
week she wasn’t sure
which way to turn, but
made the right guess.
Tonight he’ll fix the pasta
dish they both like, though
he can’t remember what
it’s called. And as they eat,
they’ll ask each other
names they used to know
of people, places, and things.
Martha Christina is a frequent contributor to Brevities. Longer work appears in Innisfree Poetry Journal, Naugatuck River Review, earlier postings of Red Eft Review, and most recently in Star 82 Review, and Crab Orchard Review. She has published two collections: Staying Found (Fleur-de-lis Press) and Against Detachment (Pecan Grove Press).
No comments:
Post a Comment