True Luxury
Let’s wear time like a silk scarf,
our hands a sieve for the moments as they pass.
I will dangle the hopeful spring days in my earlobes,
and wear the moonless dark nights around my neck.
And each orgasm is a jewel in your crown.
And each argument is a bead around my ankle.
And each kiss,
each sleepy-eyed “I love you,”
each turn of the cheek,
each flick of the wrist—
little seams that line the insides of our coats.
You will wear the years like so many rings on your fingers
as you tap, tap, tap on the steering wheel.
And I will wear old age like a pair of fine gloves,
content and impervious to winter’s grasping.



















