An elderly man and woman sit in a restaurant;
the woman focuses on a plate of meatloaf and gravy
oozing over a mountain of mashed potatoes,
the man gazes at the ceiling, a fork in hand
gesturing as if forming images in the air.
If you peer into his thick-lens glasses,
do you fear being infected by the loneliness behind his moist eyes?
Can you recall when you last kissed his parched lips?
Do you remember her arthritic fingers clasping your trembling hand
as you stood next to your mother’s breathless body?
When did you cease listening to her monologue of swollen ankles,
aching joints, her dearest friend listed in the morning obituaries?
Can you remember when you last touched her taut face?
When was the last time you said you loved one another?
What unspoken grief imprisons you in adjoining cells?
Look up. See the face of the angel sitting across from you.