a hard friend to have, said Matt, my spouse
of fifteen years one bitter New Year’s Day.
I recall exploring Prague, reading Faust
climbing the math building roof that first May.
Shattered shards of colored glass—our family
when you left. Lexi eleven, Laina eight
(Mommy’s long, dark hair—Daddy’s eyes, fairy
wood), burrowed, curled into me. Too late?
Sam, our black lab whined, as tear-streaked faces
slumbered with new nightmares. I counted cost.
For six months, we grew and found our places.
Free we never knew. Love we never lost.
# # #
published August 25, 2008
Rachel Rinehart uses her life experiences to write
narratives, poems and children’s stories. She resides with her
husband and two children in Kansas City , Missouri. Between time with
her family and writing projects, she actively pursues three things: nature,
books and travel.
Big Pulp credits: