A Lover Remembered Poem by jan oskar hansen

An Old Lover Remembered.


On my walks, in the part of town that is neglected, where
streetlamps are so few that they can’t link light, I met my
old lover; she has a kiosk, sells fried chicken and fries,
soft drinks and cigarettes, since there are no other outlets
for these kind of things the poor and homeless, come here
for a bit to eat and socialize on the pavement outside her
business Years hadn’t been kind, her beautiful lips that
could do tricks were now a pale scar across her ashen face,
with dried up spittle, the colour of meerschaum- only seen
in secret coves- in the corners of her mouth, short cut hair
and her Atlantic green eyes had lost their lustre. No, time
had not been kind to us, if I kissed her now and she saw
my toothless gums, she would recoil in horror. Our sexual
exploit remembered is a poorer diet than her broilers.