Boatman’s Elegy

Her hand cold with the death of romance

obligatory touch

we watched the chill settle like a mountain chipped away by cheap time-

square watch winds 

irretrievably sad-

 

Still the flowers roll out, the cards keep turning

quick peck kisses, morning mist goodbyes

red heart valentine needle- shooting shared history

 through our warm nostalgic veins as

dark radio rains throw branches

against the Chopin windowpanes.

 

Forever stuck in this merry, soul-mate long-play quick-riff affair

nightfall- sleep cascades.

Death Valley molten cliffs

Mr fantasy stands stroking his quiff

barking carnival noise

into the oceans of space and joy that undulate between us

in our king size ruby-eyed forgotten sunken ship bed.

 

So bake that candelight dinner

toss that last-ditch lingerie

we’re old war buddies now 

purple contented hearts.

Poem Michael D. Amitin,
Photograph Julie Peiffer