A Lament

To climb these stairs again, bearing a tray Might be to find you pillowed with your books Your inventories listing gowns and frocks As if preparing for a holiday Or, turning from the landing, I Might find my presence watched through your kaleidoscope A symmetry of husbands Each redesigned in lovely forms of foresight Prayer and hope I climb these stairs a dozen times a day, and By the open window, wait, looking in at where you died My hands become a tray Offering me, my flesh, my soul, my skin Grief wrongs us so I stand and wait And cry for the absurd forgiveness Not knowing why

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jul 08, 2026