I am teaching myself to believe again…’
Says the old man leaning on the fence.
I can’t believe how long it’s been
Since I worshipped the swoons of Christ.
But I guess it is more a belief in love
That I am struggling for;
After I put her in the ground
Religion went out the door.
He is in a khaki windbreaker
Leaning on the chain-link fence
Across the way from me.
And she is in the ground behind him,
Under a large white rock, not a crucifix,
With her name emblazoned upon it
Half choked in blazing peonies
That smell of her perfume.
Can I teach myself not to remember that smell
And love again? I am so lonely,
I am so weary.
No—I am too old to love
Anything but her memory.’
Laments the old man.
Jenny is an aspiring poet from Wichita, Kansas. When she isn’t sweating it out over her keyboard, she enjoys pampering her two Great Danes, Bolt and Maxx. You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.