Jesus fondles
her left breast.
'Stop it! Stop it! '
she scolds.
'You're making me.. wet! '
They walk among the broken tombstones
deciphering the moss-eaten inscriptions.
Her summer dress
clings to her
as she clings to him.
Someone calls their names
and they turn and-
- their photograph is taken.
Ivy clings to the wall
and climbs.
It is July - 1939.
'I called him Jesus
(was that bad of me?)
because he was
my Saviour.'
'Jesus Jones...'
'I would have died for him
but - he died on me.'
'The War got him...'
'He never came home...'
The homehelp smiles warily
at the little old lady
unable to comprehend
the love of then...
because she only sees
...the time of now.
***
NOW DEATH SEEMS VERY FAR AWAY
It is July - 1939.
Her hair tumbles
across her smile.
He shades his eyes against
sunlight as if saluting.
Knowing they are going to have their photograph taken:
they stiffen into the postures
