i.
last night’s torrential rains
finally let up
two hours ago.
through an open window
no breeze cools
this stuffy room.
the curtain’s gauzy fabric
reminds me
of her spaghetti-strapped
summer dress
and carefree afternoons
down at the beach.
ii.
our cottage’s wooden floors
no longer echo
with her footfalls.
i can’t recall her scent
and old bed sheets
have nothing left to offer.
even a late morning sun
remains shrouded
under an ashen sky.
despite months without number
i have no idea
how to say goodbye.
