pewter day to stagger through
from the first shock-frozen moment I must pry
my head from the pillow smelling of you
still, though it's been -- two weeks now? since
A patch of blue-drained sky scowls down.
again, no choice but to draw breath from air
you no longer breathe. You, safe from outrage
to the flesh, have left me half a pair,
you my warrior who I cannot yet absolve,
begrudging you not so much your respite
from pain as resenting the peace you've found
while I must stay, the one you scorned for
that cold, dark, sulking silent seductress
who beguiled you with her promises of rest.
Shari O'Brien is a lecturer in English at the University of Toledo
and an attorney in juvenile court. She lives in Ohio.