( sixty years together still…)
They dance in the kitchen
like movie stars from 1939
With her eyes closed,
she imagines herself to be this man’s siren
all heady scents…fiery hair…and throaty whispers
she could be a star of the silver screen
alabaster wrists and swan neck
flashing emeralds and rubies
the whisper of her caresses
delivered by hands in long satin gloves
With his eyes shut
he could be the UPS man
twenty five years old
in summer shorts
flashing a devil of a smile
his lips deliver a commanding brush
of sea-deep kisses
that rock her from
her toes to her cerebellum
and back again…
There is music
a solo saxophone
drifting in through the open windows
soul-stirring on a cool and scented breeze
Icy cocktails are produced
as smooth as slipping skin
he removes her gloves
allowing her fingers to
graze the rim of her frosted glass
pluck a briny glistening olive
and place it between his teeth…
It’s a shabby room
scuffed up floors
a patched screen door and
counter-tops in avocado green
He washes…she dries
that’s the way it’s always been
sweet tea and ice cold beer
to toast another perfect sunset
As if he had arranged it all
just for her pleasure
his face crinkles
with that funny lopsided smile
she knows so well
He fiddles with an old black radio
slow sweet jazz fills the kitchen
spilling into every corner
crossing the room…he takes her hand
he takes her hand
Sixty years of Saturday nights
still dancing in the kitchen
About the Poet
Jill Sharon Kimmelman was nominated for a “Pushcart Prize”, in poetry, in 2017 and “Best Of The Net 2018”. Recent publications include, Spillwords Press, Yasou!A Celebration Of Life Ezine and Better Than Starbucks. Current publications are in the works.