Eros and Anteros

When given the words:

anteros

crippled
whirligig
spindle
staircase
threshold.

........

There were Callas's arias

in their mother's crinkled bedclothes,

ione trapped in her cedar chest sachets.

They had whirligigs out

in the yard, spinning

pinwheels and wobbling ducks.

Anteros watched them once

for an hour after that accidental

gulp of his father's anis. He caught them--

twice--winking at him.

Meanwhile, Eros burned hair

in the upstairs bathroom.

They had inside games

others envied. One

was called "Threshold."

Some hot, wet-blanketed

afternoons, drooped on the staircase,

one brother would softly say

threshold and the other'd

understand. They'd play:

Eros at his mother's spindle,

balancing her records. Blindfolded

Anteros guessing the tunes

with his tongue, which had kissed

every neighborhood girl.

When Eros was crippled

one Winter, they stayed in, wore

their mother's negligées.

And Anteros told his brother

of these girls, their little mouths

like rain-dampened sugar, like

river moss. Their little

waists in his hands

like warm, combed lambs.