Not a Word
6 April 2006
smoking hot, flipping mushrooms in the pan,
she thought of surplus labor, the oil popping to a beat,
sizzling memories from graduate school,
evenings in the library with Jay
as she read Marx and he scribbled equations
or roamed the aisles for some random book.
He once returned with meteorology.
She wondered where he had gone, disappeared
into the dark, night air of years ago
leaving her with the memories of his touch
or that night under the moon when he smiled
and the light danced in his brown diamond eyes
and he whispered: "I'll love you forever"
and she believed it and kept believing
until one morning as she dropped off little Nick
and watched her baby boy run through the school doors
and realized how much time had passed
with not a word.
© 2006, Satya J. Gabriel