After the Collapse of a Building

He dug a trench under the man's nose and mouth considering what it was to breathe.

Considering this man's wife--whether or not she lived still and still with him--he grew to love her and imagined small ways to charm the woman: a daffodil; a gasping handshake with him down on his knees, glasses on the ground, his own hands muttering; a pair of socks sewn up like a toy monkey; a SureSeal packet with bits of words flying about in it (truck pencil tooth more socks rope cotton oranges); and offerings of thick coffee mugs and milk in the morning.

He dug a trench under the man's nose trying not to touch anything but her fine long back.

-- published in Lullwater Review, Emory University (Volume IV, Number 2, Spring/Summer 1993)
-- For Sonny Schoen

Copyright Louise Robertson