Like roses on snow

The girl in the white summer dress
is escorted by her sister
from the wedding party
to the toilets in the function room
above The Queen’s Head in Acton.
There, she’ll change into her cousin’s
pink dress, the one that gapes slightly
at the chest and waist,
and her sister will soak and rinse away
the signs that she’s no longer a girl.


*



Their Old Bodies

He couldn’t see her anymore but it didn’t matter.
He’d traced her lines for years;
knew each crack and furrow.

The new ones that had formed,
mostly at her neck, were soft enough
to be invisible to his farm-tired hands.

His arthritic touch couldn’t quite grasp
the chewy excess that hung from her upper arms nor
the stretched-out skin folds that marbled her stomach.

The valley between her rubber breasts
was weathered. Her landscape rippled with
memories hidden within each crease,
like quiet woodlice beneath unturned stones.


      He imagined how she might look,
      lit by dying firelight, edges blackened by ashes,
      tasting bitter and dusty.


They’d both given up wearing shoes years ago;
So, neither felt the calluses from the other
scratching on thickened heel skin as they
lay together on musty sheets,
him stroking her velvet chest.


Jen Chambers