Haunted

 He was falling,

Eight seconds, maybe less.

Less would be better.

The water should end the torment.

What was he thinking?

He is terrified… as am I.

I keep asking him, “why”?

Over and over, “Was I the cause”?

He hits the water and I wake.

Always, always the impact ends the nightmare

And I wake, but not screaming.

It’s been a year and I don’t scream anymore.

Progress, the good doctor says I’m improving.

I suppose I’ve reached the anger stage.

He left me and the baby, the son of a bitch.

Why should I give a shit?

I sit with my morning coffee

And try to imagine smashing

Into the consuming benign sea.

Is he still conscious?

I live-hide in my mother’s house

He is out of my life.

I have a better man.

Today I’ll look for a job.