Never thought she would.
I would have stopped her.
Could I have stopped her?
My Brain Somersaulted
My heart picked up speed,
my stomach threatened
to 86 guilt,
drowning in bile.
Oh, God. I’m sorry.
Hold me.
I wrapped him tight,
hair dripping cool
around the stiffness
of his shoulders.
Not your fault.
Whose, then?
The answer, hanging
over my head like
a stubborn black cloud,
seemed obvious.
Mine.
Don’t say that
I pictured Guinivere,
golden-eyed wildcat,
crumpled against the
sad, cracked cement.
Whose then?
Plenty of blame to go around.
Too much truth in that.
And I never heard a thing,