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KUBY 13 LOLETTE KUBY DOOR AND PASSAGEWAYS The voice of their marriage had been doors slamming; Back door, behind fifty years of suppers, Front door, reserved for salesmen and guests, Side door, just two steps from his reading chair. In darkness his workman's boots struck each stair Like sixteen doors to the bedroom. And then The bedroom door slamming at this face Or at his back if she remained below. Now he assails the Nursing Home Always too early, shifting from foot to foot Like the pendulum of a slow-running clock Until "visitors time" unlocks the gate. And she, whose mind misplaces years, waits, Smiles, smooths his collar, their silhouettes kiss, Replaying the time of the blurred dageurrotype On the mantel, with the fifty years out front. You can still make out their expressions, Shoulders, torso stiffly fixed, but not quite Front face, as they turned slightly, ignoring The called-out, Hold it!, to reach each other's eyes. ...


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