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Loss and Attainment Charlotte Pence
The Trojans kept Helen for twelve years, winning at least a little while. So often we focus on the loss rather than the years of attainment. But any love that matters will one day be taken for granted. Last night, lying down to sleep next to you on wrinkled sheets, warm where the dog curled, cold by our feet, I realized as your hand grazed my thigh you hadn’t touched me all day. Each morning when I wake I understand you’re like a hawk scanning the next ridge. The bed heaves as you rise first, your steps hard, stiff, while the erupting sky behind you eases from gravel to blue. You don’t glance back at the soft curve of my body, not yet rigid with the day’s to-dos. Instead, you place cereal and fruit in a bowl, then call my name. The milk cold. The peach sliced. Without motive or need we sleep, eat, read, breathe together, you running a hand under my shirt whenever you want. But I was talking about Helen, about how she loved as she wished at least once, willing to witness the loss of a world for it.
Previously Published in New Millennium Writing |
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