Abandoned

 

I’d be a fabulous grieving

widow, telling people the story

 

of my husband’s death. How

the pilot was catching sight

 

of the zone of ambiguity, how

he plane just started to fall.

 

I’d enunciate each word clearly,

my husband died a hero.

 

He stood up on that plane and said,

It will be fine, you’ll see.

 

He soothed people that way, touching

shoulders and smiling until a rush

 

of pink calm filled that fated flight.

Survivors would try to comfort me,

 

telling me to be proud

of such a man, I’d wear a suit

 

the color of blackberries to the funeral, cry

only in private, wear

make-up to cover my fair and ashen face.

 

Reviews

[Distant horizons]

Great write. Nice perspective on an unusual topic. well done.