grief

she's treading
in a sea
toward a blue horizon.
the water,
the sky,
the same thing -
one face
mirroring the other.

in one hand,
a bottle of wine.
it tints her eyes,
flushes them
with dark,

he isn't gone,
she tells me,
& her,
attacking my collar.
he wouldn't leave me
she says.

she is as drunk
on desperation
as she is
on the wine.
this, i feel,
is a glass
we can share,

a glass which fills
a lot faster
than it is
emptied.