Lines Written After a Close Call
I’ve become less Orpheus than Morpheus,
Eurydice, but I don’t ever look back
to see my my twice-born darling track
my stumbles and halts (“Who sees us?”)
upon our begrudging climb, begun
below the layered strategies of earth:
My single and your double birth
we celebrate beneath a swollen sun,
orbiting for you today in double digits
while I round out in trembling fidgets
a decade of deficits we try to shun–
evasive, duplicitous, gaily wearing black
aware the while the world must see us:
piñatas, drubbed again before the final whack!
An old couple celebrated their initiation into reciprocal infirmities after the caregiver's heart stopped for four minutes, and the infirm one ran through the empty midnight streets to fetch her back from the hospital.