Friday the 13th

I didn’t know it would end like this, she said, and died.
The ring I gave her more that 60 years ago
clipped cruelly from her swollen hand.
Her body, from the bed, to the morgue, to the flame
to me, in a box heavy with grief.
I didn’t know it would end like this–
the love we shared, the lives we built . . .
in a box, to the grave, on the 24th
on a day we should have celebrated birth.
Hail and farewell, my love. I’ll see you when I sleep.

24 August 2015