making love pleasantly when
an explosion in the left armpit
like a Skilsaw ripping from rib to arm
he may be dying in the saddle
but he clutches his chest and leaps yes literally leaps
from bed to kitchen to refrigerator
to drink pickle juice straight from the jar
this is not madness
he's heard pickle juice cures muscle spasms
now here's proof
or at least anecdotal

returning to bed
"what was that?" she asks
"just a cramp" he says
"please don't die" she says frowning
"wasn't my heart" he says
romantic mood is pretty well shot
but this too is love-making of a high order
she tangles fingers in his gray chest hair
as he drops to sleep
she watches the fingers rise fall rise again
while he breathes he dreams

first published in Rat's Ass Review