HER VIGIL

 HER VIGIL

 Crush a handful of grass, and still you smell the salt from the sea.---Luisa A. Igloria,    “Pantoum, with Approachng Storm", Via Negativa, 06-05-12


 It will not cease, nor will the smell of grass
 supplant the scent of brine from this sea,
 this angst from a sacrifice that was not worth it.
 I must keep your plate on your side. Keep vigil.

 You will come home, even as a hint of a shadow.
 I will always keep your side of the bed warm,
 however cold you left it. Come in from the storm.
 It will soon be over before you know it. I know.

—Albert B. Casuga
 06-06-12