September 2004  

Absence of Instinct    © by    D. R. Meserve
 

In the quiet of an August afternoon,
I am stilled by a pair of squirrels
the color of my grandfather’s beard.
They recline outside my window

in the notch of two branches
thick as a man’s shoulder.
Like all young lovers, they nibble
quick, nuzzle deep into ears

and velvet backsides.
Chirpy squeaks drop faintly
into folds of silver skin as if to say,
intimacy is not difficult.

It is their ease of affection
that resurrects my grandparents.
How odd they'd find this display,
their own lives a harmony of avoidance.

No peck on the cheek.
No accidental touch passing the salt.
Only their brief satisfaction
of retiring to separate bedrooms

after another evening at opposite ends
of the sofa, a musty pillow propped
between them embroidered
Home Sweet Home.

Previously published in the North Carolina Poetry Society's
Pinesong: Awards 2004. Used with the poet's permission.
NOTICE: The poem on this page is copyright © by the poet.