I don’t recall the very last day.

In fact perhaps the last day was the very first day,

And I do remember that.

I keep mulling it over-

That jacket you wore and those big wet brown cow eyes.

The in between is spotted with landmarks,

Firsts for the both of us-

And lasts.

Nothing lasts.

I whispered that line to myself as I wrote it,

And a yellow leaf fell from the maple,

It is summer.

Where the hell did that come from?

The fall?

Since that last day I sway between heartbreak and song;

I don’t smell your sweat in the bed.

And I do no not miss it.

The  innocent breath of a tiny person who looks very much like you has replaced the rumbles of your apnea.

Still I find myself on the edge.

The razors edge perhaps.

I no longer shed tears in front of the children;

Yet-

At mid morning,

When the light is just right on the same country road that leads to the nanny-

My heart sinks and my eyes flood.

Then.

I go about my day.

I took the prayer flags down that I hung on one of those spotty in between days with you.

Before they were completely worn out;

So those prayers remain-

Unanswered.

I hung a new bright colored line,

Lower,

Like my expectation.

The fact that they are my single prayer and not yours cheers me,

They sway in summer balm-

Next to the banana plant you killed three times.

It’s growing again you know-

No one believed me but I knew I could help it to rise again-

Next to the new prayers.

I don’t flinch because you do not live here.

I do not feel like dust in a corner-

I cleaned the corners,

And everyone breathes better.

I wake to the breath of the baby and the bird song and send those prayers out and up;

Praying for a new first day,

To last.