he picks up on these impulses now
her pending moments of retrospect
a moving mist upon their house

she climbs up to the third-floor loft
keeping his distance, he follows
finds her in that same old way
genuflecting
ghost in candle's glow
before her hope chest
as though before her priest and God
seeking some form of absolution

it's in these moments
he falls in love's
first flame again

in white gown's gauze, her back to him
she lifts the maple lid
turns her hands to touch and sample
soft sentiments
runs fingers over lavender-scented souvenirs
quilts, photographs, fabrics, potpourri
of mementos
salvaged secrets from first loves

she'll settle on that floor, cross-legged
onto her lap she'll rest
letters and album images
from her parents' and grandparents' day
take-home badges of her own children's
kindergarten-through-graduation
locks of baby's hair; the child grown, distant, now
even a crown, ribbons and shoes from her own beauty contest days,
she smiles to think what possessed her then?
Tributes to her leaving, then starting, homes -a marriage come and gone.

From across the loft
he honours the span of floorboards separating them
just listens to her sighs, shifts in position
rustle of materials at her tender touch

but before she sheds more than a single tear
he rubs his hands preparing
she's not the only one with stores to visit
they recently lugged up here
his tickle trunk
when the moment calls to him
he dives into its monkey games and mischiefs
pulling out as from Pandora's box
all manner of surprises
fake insects, even a rubber flying bat
bright hats, wigs, plastic noses
Groucho and Elvis disguises
old Hallowe'en get-ups
distorted childhood attempts at art
his digs and gestures
infectious chuckle

he holds court...

what craziness makes him
weave his wizardry, she wonders
with those gimmicks, powders, potions
physical comedy
flirtatious grin
he becomes imp
slips on magician cloak
or old super-hero cape; mocks flight
lures her eyes and ears
with risque jokes, enticing with his voice
his eyebrow games

the shadow of her form rises
and in the candle-lit flickers
tucks away her treasures
shutting her cedar chest and its spell for now
then floats across the attic wall
to join his, in his corner

in silhouette her head rests on his shoulder
and she thinks
this is how I love him best
this jester
all she has left here now

big as life, her keepsake

04/14/1999