42 Days Since the Death of His Wife
The lonely one visits,
pulled from his solitude.
I offer him tea,
herbal balm in an open wound.
Refusing the tea, he accepts a beer,
cold comfort mixed with warm memories.
Staring out the window,
he drinks decisively,
cursing and growling
at no one in particular.
Blow Off the Dust
The lonely one returns,
a mere three weeks and two days later.
Hair unkempt, in need of a shave,
clothing disheveled, still wearing his ring.
I bypass the tea,
offer a beer instead.
Standing behind me as I lean on the fridge,
he asks me softly if I have anything stronger.
I retrieve the whiskey, blow off the dust,
wash two glasses, drink to his health.
Light of a Low-Hanging Moon
The lonely one remains,
well into the night he stays.
Bypassing the neutral chair, he
takes up residence on the aging couch.
Pouring a second glass of liquid fire,
he follows it up with two more chasers.
After each shot, he plays with his ring,
twirling it one way, and then the other.
In the forgiving light of a low-hanging moon,
he takes off his ring, remains immeasurably sad.
Cristine A. Gruber writes from sunny, Southern California. Her work has been featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, California Quarterly, Dead Snakes, The Endicott Review, The Homestead Review, Iodine Poetry Journal, Leaves of Ink, Miller’s Pond, Napalm and Novocain, The Penwood Review, The Poet’s Haven, Pound of Flash, Pyrokinection, Red River Review, The Tule Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, and The Write Place at the Write Time. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, is available from http://buybooksontheweb.
com. More of Cristine's work can be found and enjoyed at http://sierraviewjournal. blogspot.com/.