We tread timidly, in shell-shocked silence,
around a house that was once a home.
I think you mistake my abeyance for peace.
I am fermenting a fury as old as time,
a simmering sourness that sits well with me.
There were brackish words that caught in my throat
and there were words you wouldn't think to say.
I don't know when it became too late.
A pathetic implosion, a magician's cloak flapped
and we suddenly recoiled, awkward as strangers.
I watch with resignation as this huge thing disappears,
like a ship sounding one last mournful
warning as it glides out into the freezing fog.
We float in stagnant water; two pale, lifeless bodies waiting to be discovered.