The Least You Could Do by James Laughlin for National Poetry Month

The Least You Could Do

he told her, would be to forget
your pride of ownership for an hour
and let her come to sit by my bed
for that fraction of a time.
What could we say in an hour
that would hurt you, or would take
anything away from what you've had?
What looks could we exchange
that would harm you in any way?
It's more than ten years
since we were lovers; in ten years
we haven't seen each other.
Is it so strange that we want
to meet again for a last time,
to look at each other, to listen to
each other's voices, ever
so gently to touch hands?
It's the least you could do.