First Date

The scar on her sternum is a zipper

opened once to reveal her heart,

the smooth arc of her breasts

untouched since the bypass

fifteen hundred nights ago.

His body lies beside hers

pale as skim milk

after radiation scoured

the wild cells

from his marrow.

Like lonely travelers who plan

to meet in a foreign city

they have shared their stories

on the web,

how their return from the dead

troubles friends

the way gypsies disturb tourists

with sad eyes and outstretched hands.

And tonight in an airport motel,

each reveals one last secret

like a prisoner

who rips a silver coin

from a coat’s silk lining

to seal a sacred oath.