by Robert Halleck
Truth be known, she did not
want it to happen,
If you feel that way don’t come home.
A shouted warning after a morning
fight over a toothbrush before he left
slamming the door behind him—an act
dulling thoughts of last night at Danny’s:
white table cloths, heavy menus, wine,
baskets of napkin swaddled bread.
At the office they found him slumped
over his coffee cup dead at 35.
They were married, then he was dead–
forever gone, no morning kiss,
no make up sex, no way to say,
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you.