Mary Susan Clemons
Back in the Game
“Widow” no longer holds its Mae West mysterious
charm. We are as common as candy corn
on Halloween. My children scoff
at my youthful escapades. Their children
warn of a horror filled world. Their children,
amazed, believe I alone can understand.
My needs are primal – warm, safe, touched.
My wit and gentle ways fill my bed.
Safe sex? I no longer feared culture’s brands
or an unwelcome babe. HIV adds itself to my ailments.
I flirted with the cloaked one. He, like a child
at his mother’s hem, gently tugs. I struggle to balance.
How do I keep this secret from my generations,
but not from my partners?
© Mary Susan Clemons
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