Grandma married a man
From one of The Dances
All paid for by
The hospital
A girl of eighteen
In a village deplete
Of men save for accounts
Of heroic deeds and
Stilted typeset eulogies
Photographers would always carefully position his hat
And I wondered about
Their first kiss
Before curfew and the band,
Quite underpaid and pissed,
Had ducked under the last
Drape of fog
And she was alone
With his stiff gauze hands
And his mouth
Of borrowed skin
Knowing the touch and trying to remember the feeling
#NaPoWriMo 2014 poem number 4
© Brendan Bonsack
April 2014