Over the fence, the dead settle in <br />for a journey. Nine o'clock. <br />You are alone for the first time <br />today. Boys asleep. Husband out. <br /> <br />A beer bottle sweats in your hand, <br />and sea lavender clogs the air <br />with perfume. Think of yourself. <br />Your arms rest with nothing to do <br /> <br />after weeks spent attending to others. <br />Your thoughts turn to whether <br />butter will last the week, how much <br />longer the car can run on its partial tank of gas.<br /><br />Deborah Ager<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alone-21/
