THE DAY AFTER

Around the side veranda, just down
from their bedroom window, she sits
on the old stone step, leaning

forward, arms folded across knees,
head heavy on arms, face hidden.
Her body shakes.

The blue sheets from his bed
hang on the single clothesline
above her. The pot plants

are tinder dry, orange flowers
from the creeper running along
the railing lie on the ground in

rough procession, crumpling slowly.
The side gate squeaks, another visitor.
She lifts her head, takes a deep breath.