was warm, even for June, and the water was low. A violet sky was streaked
with silver and yellow. They walked along
the shore without holding hands.
were both in good health, not millionaires, but they were comfortable. They kept
their vows. They did everything the way you’re supposed to.
used to confide. They used to look at each other. Now they came home, ate dinner. Went to bed and looked at the ceiling.
It came through the cracks, it crept in under the door. You tried
to take it in hand and it ran through your fingers.
walked along the shore and the water was low. Too black to be rock, too smooth to be stone,
it had come to rest in the weeds. It was square, about a foot deep. They lifted
the top with their fingertips.
waited, and soon they heard sirens. Flashbulbs popped like giant fireflies, radios crackled. The officer wrote down their names, where they lived.
was late, and the sky was silver and black, colors of reckoning. They went
home. Said goodnight and stared in the dark.
did everything right and it crept through the weeds .
So cold. Even for June.
reached for her hand.