One Flesh

Elizabeth Jennings

 Next Poem          

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?

Next Poem 

 Back to Elizabeth Jennings

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.

  • J.Snow

    I always felt a certain sadness when reading "Strangely apart, yet strangely close together". I read this back when I was younger, too. What do people think these two people are actually feeling?