In his lap
his lady's slipped-off
high-heel shoe

his fingers folded over
the back sling strap

his head back, eyes closed, tired
not laughing or capturing
on video, as in the earlier hours
as his wife marked each haiku's oration
by a tinkling on the glass

across the reading room
in the high-backed chair's
softer seating
she nestles
spent

from
her performance
warm
close air
lights
crowd
hours talking with
listening to her fellow poets

she makes gentle insistence
on her choice to stay
give
receive
and not give in
to a premature exit
by edict and edit
of cancer's ambush

husband, friends,
and audience spin
a silent silk safety wish
across
the room

while in his lap
his lady's slipped-off
high-heel shoe

03/25/2004

Author's Note: for years this world-renowned award-winning and gentle but strong poetess Marianne Bluger, of Ottawa, has surpassed medical predictions of her "then-imminent" demise to breast cancer, and continues to produce books of poetry, teach others and lead with her haiku and other poems, and even put on a reading after thinking the one above might be her last. Last summer she sailed with friends, around the Gaspé Peninsula, because she'd always wanted to. Though she experiences setbacks and her very ill times, she just never seems to quit. I believe the sheer love of she and husband Larry for one another, and her family, humour, defiance, spirituality and strong faith, her commitments to humanitarian causes, plus poetry, of course, keep her going.

Posted on 03/25/2004
Copyright © 2024 Maureen Glaude