Despite
Poem by Pietje Kobus
Not despite, you say, because
You’ve been looking in the bathroom mirror
of our Santa Fe adobe house, beneath stained vigas
wearing your orange sports bra
and half-buckled blue jeans
a black-and-white plaid shirt in one hand—for horseback-riding
Was it five summers ago when
I saw you at Seattle’s Cyclops,
wearing a sleeveless golf shirt?
I kept staring at your shoulders,
tan and muscular, diagonal scars
I felt too timid asking about
Aren’t you worried about the age difference?
My mom says, tells her Christian friends
I was looking for a replacement. No,
my fear is dying alone, my means exhausted, becoming
the people I see as I drive along Cerrillos
pushing carts with tattered blankets and frayed satchels
I’m proud to be an old lady, you say,
love me because of my wrinkles
Turning around, my right index finger traces
the lines in your face, grazes
your flat stomach with my left hand,
Because, I whisper, I love you because
Pietje Kobus is an MFA student at the Mississippi University for Women in Columbus. She writes creative non-fiction and poetry, mostly about the long-lasting damage of harmful messages received during childhood. When she is not writing you can find her in Santa Fe, NM playing with her dogs or taking pictures along a trail. Follow here on Instagram @Pietjewrites, on Twitter @Pietje_Pykje, or on her website http://www.pietjekobus.com.