At Evening

I talk to her at evening,
as the sun is slipping from the dimming sky.
I talk to her as the sun leaves a fast fading glow, the dusk gathers
and night shrouds the day.

I talk to her at evening when her words slide together,
slide and blur—
puffed out in last gasps of exhaustion…
sliding together, slurring, blurring.

I talk to her at evening and I can see the heavy haul of legs to waiting bed.
I can hear the heavy, slow movements in her voice,
the determined heave of body to bed…
energy expended in a last effort of will.
I talk to her at evening.

© Ammie-oy 2010

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