foreign land 
a sad-eyed woman 
framed in a blue window 

I would name them if I could, those things between the two of us that slide away from words—like the stars that you can only see from the corner of your eye, the ones that disappear when you look at them straight on. Or like when you’re struck by sudden knowledge that lodges in your body, not your brain. Yesterday I saw your eyes pass through me as I walked toward you on the sidewalk: you, waiting by the restaurant door, looking for me, but not seeing. Not recognizing. What was that sudden something catching in my throat? When you did see me, you smiled. Warmly. All through dinner, we laughed. You can always make me laugh. And yet I felt I couldn’t breathe.

This morning I woke early, you still dreaming somewhere far away, your body warm beside me as I watched the curtains sway. Outside, the voices of young men on the street. I tried to make out their words, but heard only the cadence, a song-like lilt that followed them away. So many lives I’ll never know. I could not stop my tears.

Bio: Jennifer L. Freed