A Premonition of Mourning

When I loved you fierce
and there was lion in your blood,
we lay in our broad bed hung with wisteria

and fed each other
until the slow savanna of middle years
spread its yellow ochre through our rooms.

Now, slunk in the sunken couch,
your body is spent with requests
for bread and wine

and I know someday you'll leave
when I'm least expecting it.
My arms hold you mine --

for this moment only I partner
the light in stumbling pas de deux.
Not even Salome twirling

for the head of John
could have felt as I now do
dancing for you.

Teresa White

previously published in "The Rose and Thorn"