winter poem by Curtis Dunlap

soaking our feet
was the beginning
of my undoing,
followed by the extra log on the fire,
then the nightcap of bourbon
and coke,
the gentle way
you stroked my thinning hair

a quarter century ago
we lay in front of the fire,
flesh on moist flesh,
unabated giving,
warm giddy pleasing
of each other

but there’s little of that to do
now that we’ve reached a time
of senior discounts
and AARP mailings

shall i mourn the passing of youth
and testosterone?
reach for a pill in a mad attempt
to recapture the bull
that i was?

sure. why not?

but not tonight,
no,
not while your delicate fingers
ferry me to sleep,
your breasts
the sweetest
pillows