Peggy in the Twilight
Peggy spent half of each day trying to wake up, and
the other half preparing for sleep. Around five, she
would mix herself something preposterous and ‘40’s-ish
like a Grasshopper or a Brass Monkey, adding a note
of gaiety to her defeat. This shadow life became her.
She always had a glow on; that is, she carried an aura
of innocence as well as death with her.
I first met her at a party almost thirty years ago.
Even then it was too late for tragic women, tragic
anything. Still, when she was curled up and fell asleep
in the corner, I was overwhelmed with feelings of love.
Petite black and gold angels sat on her slumped shoulders
and sang lullabies to her.
I walked into another room and asked our host for
a blanket for Peggy.
“Peggy?” he said. “There’s no one here by that name.”
And so my love life began.
-James Tate
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