Pale blue eyes looking up,
I put nitroglycerin under your tongue,
as we watch the football and hum “Nessum Dorma”.
I help you to shave or tie a Windsor Knot,
each time noticing the beige circle on your cheek,
melanoma erased by radiotherapy.
In July, you planted a rosemary bush.
Covered in ancient toil and sweat,
I help you undress in the hallway.
Closing the bathroom door, seeing you naked,
all of you was vulnerable and shorn.
Shivering like a cold lamb.
My skin burnt silently and slowly.
You looked at me awkwardly.
I write you a poem with naked eyes.