Over Chronic Fatigue With Our Friend Catalina
in Despair Over Losing Both Husband and Job
Beneath the dining table light
their eyes, their words,
their faces merged
in one compelling mood.
From my own cupola of light I watched
the woman that I love emerge
from deep inside herself to share
this other woman's hurt.
And felt the forced staccato
of their laugh lurch forth
to duel an opaque force
that roiled them
to a cliff's-edge gasp
beyond their loved ones' reach.
Then throatily retract, shared
shucking off of countless
askings, "Why? Pray God, why me?"
And I looked down, into my book,
glad to see shared misery work
but wishing her emerging were for me.
Robert Joe Stout