Our bodies learn to ache.

We sooth our bent-wrecked spines

With whatever might take

The shake from our fault lines.

 

With our fingers, we scrape

Menthol, camphor, extract

Of capsicum, landscape

the relief of our backs.

 

Give me, darling, that burn:

Your hands touch everywhere.

This is how love is learned,

With mint’s scent in our hair.

 

Not all, aged, falls apart.

No, not my heart, your heart.