The Eyes of Both Were Opened

Beautiful themselves
they found it hard to see each other at first
as a girl she danced in white socks on slippery floors
he saw this in her eyes
together they drove into the suburbs like Bonnie and Clyde
with car payments
a mother letting forks and knives fall out of her hands
so many kitchens to cook and clocks to keep
but her legs were gaining traction
as she walked the waiting rooms of middle age
thinking things over
her shoulders were handles he hung onto
or he too might fly away or lose his eyes in a tree
(things like that are known to happen
you know)
as time gathered plaque
everything else was coming off
so many things they had yanked at
useless pockets
a carpenter’s belt of empty loops
and as they lay at last undressed
their skin the glass of rainy days
she was the girl, the mother, the woman
with nothing more to show
and everything to see.

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