Your dog’s not pregnant,
The doctor says.
Heart, kidney, gall bladder, bowel
But no blobs
And I’m fine.
I knew this was possible.
My friend squeezes my hand,
and texts her husband,
he sends an emoticon with tears.
There’s none from me.
We walk the dogs a block or so, then
take them back to the cars, shaded from the morning sun.
We walk down the street,
Pointing out shops where we’ve found nice things
I buy the coffees and a strawberry tart to share,
We sit outside and sip and talk
Calm and matter of fact.
I always knew this was possible.
Later, as I drive, my eyes sting
behind large black sunglasses
The Sad, takes root inside
and grows wide.
The vines curl around my heart
They hurt, but I won’t t tear them off
and cast them far away
As I might like to.
Cracked dreams are crumbling,
Tumbling down the sides
of a vast sinkhole.
I peer over the edge, to
the wreckage below.
I wander restless
Around the house.
I touch her and the Sad
grips me hard again.
Her love shines
No super model, she,
But still the face of indescribable beauty.
We walk to the beach.
Little jagged rocks
of disappointment, of how unfair’s,
are strewn along our path.
Bright coloured shards of self pity
Draw my eye,
But I don’t pick them up
And carry them with me.
There’s no blame, no explanation,
That will salve this pain.
There’s just the hot sting on my face,
as I watch my dreams burn on a pyre
Stacked high with work and hope and love,
That I will watch until it’s down
to soft, cold ashes.