Dawn Decision

Sat with her shadow,

watching the light hit the edge of the morning,

cold and bleak,

spread like cheap margarine on thin white toast.

Stuttered breaths,

pulled in over the knot of unshed tears in her throat,

hard and hot,

crouched like a fat spider at the mouth of a cave.

Mourning memories,

hundreds of sunrises into an empty sky behind her,

stiff and sore,

dour like a professional pallbearer.

Nothing changes here,

she reminds herself, not in any way they can see,

greedy and keen,

peering through the nets, like long-beaked cranes ready to fish.

Each day will start,

as it has done for years when she didn’t know,

lonely and forsaken,

believing if she just kept going, he would be kinder.

Tomorrow will look the same,

bringing him his tea, the steady plod of her slippered feet,

quiet and sure,

watching him sup it down with his wet lips.

Years taken from her,

hope hollowed out of all but patience,

learned and earned,

grimly determined like a ruthless victor.

Victor she will be,

picking up his prescriptions as a good wife,

faithful and meticulous,

resourceful like a quartermaster minding rations in war.

Sat with her shadow,

The only witness to this new tilt of the earth,

mute and approving,

heavy like pills sinking to the bottom of the cup.