Life-line

Tonight I wear your dress 
like a shell to my most graceless springing. 
The brown velvet shimmers with the folds 
and the tucks hang like loosely gathered wind, 
meeting the belt that inhales my heredity. 
Buckled beneath this ageless fabric 
I find you. 

Was it the same? 
Did grandpa’s brawny forearm scoop you up 
like weightless shucks of wheat 
then hold you close to dance? 
Did you worry about your slip showing 
and laugh at his crooked tie? 
Did the melody of the last dance stay in your head 
late into the night? 

I snap the cuff firmly against my wrist 
and stretch my palm wide 
to see it lined with merging life 
and find you 
once again unfold.