One Flesh
Lying apart now, each in a separate bed, He with a book, keeping the light on late, She like a girl dreaming of childhood, All men elsewhere, it is as if they wait Some new event: the book he holds unread, Her eyes fixed on the shadows overhead. Tossed up like flotsam from a former passion, How cool they lie. They hardly ever touch, Or if they do it is like a confession Of having little feeling, or too much. Chastity faces them, a destination For which their whole lives were a preparation. Strangely apart, yet strangely close together, Silence between them like a thread to hold And not wind in. And time itself's a feather Touching them gently. Do they know they're old, These two who are my father and my mother Whose fire from which I came, has now grown cold?
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"Lying apart now, each in a separate bed,..."
"One Flesh" is a quintessential example of Elizabeth Jennings's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...