Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Three Fingers

They are ready to close
his coffin.     She raises

her hand,
not yet.

A step forward, head tipped right
she gazes at him

the last time
in fifty-four years,

her life. Three fingers
to her lips, she presses in

as if she could hold it,

as if that
could contain it.

No comments:

Post a Comment