Is it Really Over?

Is It Really Over?

　
Was it something I ate?
Was I caught with pomegranate juice,
Dripping rubies from my chin?

　
Or maybe
Everything I ate?
Generous feasts, prepared, shared eaten,
The thick waist and hips,
Overtaking and embracing
The long legged girl.

　
Was it something I said?
Some magical every day word
Like whisk or rhubarb
That broke the charm,

　
Or could it have been
Opinions spoken with too much force
Laughter, bubbling, helpless, joyful,
Fearless,
LOUD!
Not fit
For the romantic evenings of summer?

　
Or perhaps
Something I lived?
Years squandered
on novels, naps and solitaire,
Still other years
Spent wisely
On music, work, art and love.
But gone by,
Adding up to white hair,
A thick waist,
Breath short at the top of the stairs.

　
They never beat down the door,
even before the pomegranate,
The grey hair
and the guffaw

　
Now they stay away entirely,
Unless they hold up friendship
Like the cross before the vampire.
The mirror before the Medusa.

　
But I hazard a guess.
I am the mirror they most fear
youth and beauty vanished.
Love looks impossible without these

　
But, if they should grow bold
and ask me
"Is it really over?"
I will look out,
Silver haired,
Plump,
Pomegranate juice dripping from my chin,
Laughing.

　
"Absolutely Not!