Everyone said I was
looking in the opposite direction
when the car hit me.
The sun was very tall
at the beginning of the longest day,
the birds kept flying above the spilt blood on the pavement.
The crowd gathered around,
covered me with a blanket,
put a coin on my eyelid.
The traffic stopped. The sandwich maker over the road
made the sign of the cross in the air
and came closer to watch
the phone still ringing inside
the white pocket of my white dress.
The unreturned call echoed in heaven
for a long while.
A week later, news got to you
about the girl’s body found by the railway station
in a silver box.
Photo: John Stadnicki
I did not know
How much you wrapped yourself around my heart
Until today when sitting in the park
I accidentally caught you eating bread.
You took each bite with your eyes closed
And gently stroked the crust
Like you would do on Sunday in church.
You did not smile but
I think it was the sun who smiled at you
For a brief moment.
I had been there in the cold for quite a while
But did not move or blink or even breathe
You packed the crumbs away and
And then I sobbed.