I am engaged! This poem is dedicated to beloved Adam. Bless you.
On Wearing White Pants at the Airport
I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror
before boarding my plane,
peeking backside as no one was washing their hands.
How wide I looked and my outfit not summer chic,
as I hoped this morning when I chose it,
but crumpled, the linen creased from the car ride,
my panties chosen for their nudeness
to avoid panty lines, instead made my flesh more visible.
My hair was not smooth with this morning’s extra conditioning,
rather the gray hairs raised their hands for extra credit.
I wondered if my lover who dropped me off
and watched me walk through the sliding glass doors,
saw what I did in that florescent light-
my bottom is a shortbread biscuit, my hair a tumbleweed.
Nowhere in the reflection was last night
when I clamped my legs tight like a virgin,
him playing along like the sun
coercing a flower bud.
Perhaps because of his very love,
I left the bathroom not despising myself
as I used to do, not wanting to be the woman
ahead of me at the gate, who at twenty was a Barbie,
pert bottom perched on long legs, hair a wig maker’s muse.
The virgin ripe with longing, the woman surrendered to love,
she urged me to step forward
when they called for VIPs to board the plane,
she let me see myself, not with eyes or mirrors,
but with love, my lovers and mine.