Again, but New

In the medical center dreariness
I wait for him – his flu vaccine.
Outside, the feathery pepper tree,
fecund green in shade and sun,
stirs my mind to morning sex.

He rouses me, long past my fertile years,
as much with texture, love’s open hand,
as with his mouth, his touch.
How even in our silences we quicken
to each other’s measure, the weight
we give to language’s humanity,
to art, imagination’s host,
to laughter, kinship in the play of wit.
Over time, we’ve traveled distances,
foreign and domestic, unticketed,
our right of way.

And now, his handsome
stubbled face above my own – I shout,
break windows in some unsuspecting place.
Who planned this primordial pleasure,
without benefit to species?


Nudibranch, Indonesia, copyright 2005 Mary Pearson

Copyright 2012, Peggy Aylsworth

Peggy's poetry has appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, The MacGuffin, Chiron Review, forthcoming in Poetry Salzburg Review and in numerous other literary journals throughout the U.S. and abroad. Recently, one of her poems was nominated by The Medulla Review for a Pushcart Prize.

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