Poem

Old Lovers
by Mary Jane Newton

We are old lovers now.
Like rancid butter we drip
All over the sheets.
We smile at
The mutiny of our bodies
And we lie, holding hands.
We know we both
Remember the full moons
During which we chased
Our scents like unruly hounds,
During which we burnt
Ourselves up like cheap candles,
During which we played gently
Each other like instruments,
Read each other like Braille,
Watched each other
With closed eyes.
Now we lie here,
At once regretful and reconciled,
Holding hands
Under the duvet.

Mary Jane Newton