she’s pulling away from him, his
imminent passing causing her to
prematurely run from death. his
fate a kind of soothsayer of her
sometimes, she forces herself
to forget the good times; promises
spoken over the years can’t be kept
from the grave.
nightly, she holds his hand in hers
as he closes his eyes. she says good-
night through tears, silent sobs,
and a kiss. Their kisses used to mean
I love you, but now they echo, forgive
me, I have to let you go.
Arlene Antoinette is a poet of West Indian birth who grew up in Brooklyn, New York. She graduated from Brooklyn College and worked as an instructor with disabled individuals for many years. You may find additional work by Arlene at Foxglove Journal, Little Rose Magazine, I am not a silent Poet, Tuck Magazine, The Feminine Collective, The Open Mouse, Amaryllis Poetry, Boston Accent Lit, Sick Lit Magazine, Postcard Shorts, 50 Word Stories, The Ginger Collect, Neologism Poetry Journal and Your Daily Poem.