Two Poems

Our Bones Shine

Our bones shine aswe teach each other yetanother new language, thisone the language of death.

This new foreign language cameupon us slowly. We learnedit with great difficulty. Firstwe had to stop trying so hard

not to learn it at all. I was muchmore resistant than he. Everthe philologist, he was so goodat it, I almost died watching him.

I kept not getting even the basics.Why are you dying? I would askover and over. That’s not howto form the question, he’d reply.

Let’s study it this way, he wouldsay, caressing my shiny, tear-stained face with his beautifulbony dying hands, let’s

acknowledge that this newlanguage will conquer us;we will not conquer it. It willsay all that there is to say.

After Great Pain

After great painwhen things couldnot be the samethey tried to movethe goal postsand even the playingfield. They tried tochange the weather.They bought newclothes. They hada baby, they changedtheir religion. Thenthey faced facts,turned inward, cryingout, closing the door,holding each otherblameless. They gavethe child to someonewho wanted her. Theytook a long silent walkand formally shookhands. They ate twoforks and forgot aboutall that spooning.