You’re Still the One
—after Shania Twain’s song by the same title.
who breaks out in song though you only remember
a phrase or two, and you’re still the one who riffs
the opening verse of House of the Rising Sun
on the guitar that’s been part of the basement décor
for over fifty years. You still retain your beautiful
square shoulders where your girl’s head has fit perfectly
for five decades, though the blade these days is sharper
and more prominent. You still get your thrill
from the antics of Carol Burnett and Tim Conway,
and like them, you are not afraid to be silly, like
when you made a video to thank doctors and nurses
and prayer warriors for support during your month-long
stay in the transplant unit, saline bags hung to your ears
as you Elvised Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
You still love vanilla ice cream. You still allow your forty-
year-old daughter to dance on your now hammer-toed
and blue-veined neuropathied feet. You are still the one
who hangs curtains for the girl who nearly abandoned you
after that same task a half century ago, and you are still
the one who makes a detour to the bedroom on your way
to work in early morning to pull the covers over her shoulders
and kiss her goodbye like that gesture could be the last time
to tell her she’s still the one.
Poem Published by Poets OnLine, Sept. 2024; written to prompt “The Last Time”
Photo by Nadia Sitova on Unsplash
Poem nominated for the Pushcart Prize by Poets Online, November, 2024