in the small spaces between us?
When he grabbed the gun,swallowed the pills,
huffed a noxious puff,
poured out his blood
into the bathtub?
Were you thereon the bedroom floor,
after the fist, the belt, the knife?
Were you therewhen the cashier dropped her hand,
pushed the alarm two seconds
When the deal went bad,
or the heart roiled with revenge?
Bless those who willmeet up with the cross tonight,
whose darkness has not yet
known a dawn so bright
it could bring us back from death.
Cynthia E. Robinson © 2013