At our age, we waste no motions; Each gesture and innuendo is foreplay. No energy expended nor labor maintained Is superfluous or redundant But rather is a component of spontaneity Engaged in for the sake of celebrating Love.
We picnic on a moment’s notice, Without ulterior motives, Just to throw down a blanket And get close enough to the earth To listen to its murmurous blood Circulating through roots, shoots, and buds.
We take our beat from the Maker’s cadence, Express echoes of divinity Kissing wet lips, Letting fingertips touch twitching lids, And, entering our souls through our eyes, Risk the ultimate invasion of privacy.
We savor every conversation, embrace, And radiant lovemaking As though today could somehow be a prophecy Of tomorrow’s holocausts. Blessed we consider ourselves For having discovered consanguineous wisdom
In the design of our entwined intellects. We seek pleasure for each other And measure it by climaxes simultaneously achieved. So precious is our togetherness We know better than to squander a second, Lest Time arrest our innocence before its time.
Use the player below to listen to Louis Daniel Brodsky read this poem.
These poems follow the first year of a relationship between two middle-aged lovers finding each other after surviving the travails of divorce.
In Forever, for Now, Mississippi River poet Louis Daniel Brodsky has written a Huckleberry Finn of latter-day love. Cutting loose from worlds that have gone dismally wrong — "desperate, desolate, defunct marriages" — the protagonist and his beloved Janie hide from the world aboard a raft for two, drifting towards self-enfranchisement and love. . . . What love’s skepticism opens for this poet is his participation in the human experience . . . in a recurring history that flows like the river. — Sanford Budick, founding director of the Center for Literary Studies, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem
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