Stroking the Pigeon (after Amour)

By Patricia Spears Jones

What happens when you lose your taste
For living things-a lover’s mouth
The scent of her skin; his dark pubic hair
His hand’s distinct wave

How to savor what can no longer
Offer warmth, languor, curses

This we speak of
Again and again
A theme so lacking in originality
And yet

Is not that taste
It’s heat, spice or sourness

That shapes such loss.

Is it not
Of paramount deliberation

Is it not that need to stroke a living thing
That returns us to the pain of what

Has moved from breath?

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