Soldier’s Wife
by Marina J. Neary
For three nights I slept
In the warmth of my own arms. There hasn’t been a single bruise on them Since he left for war. No need to wear a long-sleeved blouse anymore. God, I wish he’d just get killed. Hear that rustle outside? The bird’s mangled wing still twitches. |
Copyright © 2010 by Marina J. Neary