DEATH OF A HUSBAND
After the death of my second husband
I try to write daily.
It doesn’t relieve the sex urge
but it does engulf the use of hands
to open doorways to hearts with
no knowing effects to the albumen
of egg-shelled loneliness.
I will not be tumbled for again,
but slow measured stepping shall
alleviate the storming of the flow
of my heart.
