Unsayable

That day you went the cracks of dawn
That fractured us like porcelain
Ran down my road. You called upon
All things but us to start again.
That day I stayed the autumn fell
Whose ancient, cyclical demise
Could not for worlds of red instill
October in your August eyes.
All told, I’m doing rather well.
I have a husband and a home.
My baby has your eyes and Hell
Is freezing over in my own.

Lorena Axman Freed is a poet living in her native Ohio, and received her MA in English from the University of Rochester. She enjoys gardening, gaming and playing paintball.

Image: Bruno Liljefors, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons