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.