Rosary Beads
She kissed me on the face when
She left this morning, me still
Half-sleep-safe under the blanket,
Leaving for work kissing not on the lips.
And last night lying on the couch,
Tired flung limbs just touching,
Did her foot inch away?
The next time of kissing goodbye I
Push on the edge of expected ardor;
Saturday night kiss on Tuesday morning,
Gauging the response for hair-fine
Nuances in return. A wisp of stray
Hair tucked behind her left ear
And she’s gone.
Needlepoint holes seep air and threaten
a leak of my calm; small tears rent in the shell
Of my love-self. And I almost ask
What it is or might be. And I toss about
Possible answers in my head.
The not-knowing hangs around my neck
And I worry it,
Lingering on each separate cold
Rosary bead, counting doubts.
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