Narrow bed
When last I lay with you my Love-
lay with you in your narrow bed
in your room, off campus, near the mall.
in your last semester of Pre- Med.
That day I’d helped you move your things
And after our feast of pie and beer
You were loathe to let me go
In your narrow bed you held me near.
Your hair was then a fiery red
Your milk white breasts had known no sun
I kept eye contact as I inclined
to worship Venus with my tongue.
Later as our climax neared
Your ankles locked around my back
You gasped as we, together, came
A delightful little death was that.
Sweating in a chilly room
Your landlord didn’t give much heat
I held you then for the last time
Both knowing and not knowing that.
We grew apart, you moved away
I met the girl who’d be my wife
You had your practice in Atlanta
We both got along with life.
Thirty winters passed us by
I heard that you were back in town
I hurried out to visit you.
To see your face for one last time.
Your brother met me at the door-
The one who used to be a priest
He led me to the open casket
Where your body lay at peace
Streaks of grey were in your hair
The strain of cancer marred you face
But though the battle had been lost
Were you not now in a better place?
Laid out in a pale blue dress
[...] Read more
poem by John F. McCullagh
Added by Poetry Lover
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