The Gift of the Second Year
We unfolded the 20-year old sheet from our bag
It smelled vaguely of Downy
But mostly of
Heat
On each corner we placed a shoe
We took off our shirts to feel the first bits of summer sun
In 10 minutes, the droplets of salty sweat formed on our upper lips
And our arms were slippery
And we closed our eyes from the brightness
And we may have both fallen asleep
And then we were awake
And then the faded and worn blue of your denim
And then blinding white
And then
Flesh
Brain spinning like a jenny
Feverish
The gift of the second year
Is cotton
Not because of the life threads we have just started to weave
Not because we are young and poor and can’t afford something else
Not because of anything
Except to remind us
That as the tedium
The complacency
The peacefulness
Of our lives together sets in
That it was not that long ago
That we were fumbling toward ecstasy
On a rumpled and damp cotton sheet
And that we found your left shoe about 10 feet away
Each year I write a poem to commemorate our wedding anniversary using the traditional anniversary gift as the inspiration. Click the links below to read the series so far.