The In-Break

now that its too late.
it's all my fault, not too proud

i'm sorry, i'm sorry
and mix with the blood and memories
yolk spilled, smile fixed, tears flow
floor, coming from his head.
love intermingle with the blood on the
honeymoon. Memories of better days, better
it out together, in Nova Scotia, on their
examining when she struck. They had picked
the whalebone flute that he had been
in her hands. And a carving in his hand,
and she sits on the floor, with his head

forgiveness, finally, he came back.
he turns, eyes open, pleading for
Connects with the side of his head as
(as he tried to teach her so many times).
and swings, stepping into it
she steps into the room, hesitates.
no time to see what it is looking at
crouched unwary, unprepared, distracted.
a fear, a shadow, a figure, a cutout
broken glass. A shape silhouetted.
the fresh air. French doors, opened, no
can feel the temperature difference, smell
the house, something that should not be
to ward off fear. she knows someone is in
she slinks down the hall, weapon raised

memory now, time for action.
so boring and static). No time for
the game, tried to teach her. she hated it,
friend from the softball league (he loved
examined, approved. A gift, from his
door slides. over-sized bat retrieved,
bare feet pad velvet to the closet
sheets slide silently to the floor,
and she will not let it be defiled.
This is their house, was their refuge,
explanation, strategy, ideas, weapons.
mind flashes, hyper active, seeking
cold sweat suit coats her pores.
through the canyons of limbs
eyes flash open, adrenaline flash flood

windows. cold air on her cheek
she hears the night's song, wind against
stupid, stupid sauerkraut.
food now, no ham or pickles or
refrigerator hum, full of only her
major, at the time). She hears the
ancient Aztecs (she was an Anthro
eight in the morning about
they loved, fought, talked till
first. In this house, these halls
he was her light, her knight, at
oblivion, void free of memory.
waiting for sleep, for blessed
lying there in the dark alone.

sweaty, restless unused energy
marathon. Jitterbug, full of
sheets tousled like, un-run
a king sized bed, half full.
fat ripe fields. satin sheets in
whys and why nots plague the
dreamland. A locust swarm
sheep in the pasture adjoining on
better life. Maybes outnumber
like they ran together in a
marathons of ifs and oughts
her mind is racing, running
can't sleep, can't stop
alone in the house she