things he kept

A Poem by Maggie Munday O.

the world shut down

but he could not hold her.

she refused to be cradled.

she refused to do anything but be in the thick

of it all

to glove her hands

and hurl herself into the yellow tape

into the selfless world of life or death.

he kept

the puzzle,

half finished,

that they bought from their first date

at the met.

he kept

the photograph from before it all began, her in his arms,

bags under her eyes from an all night shift

but laughing and laughing,

ramen spilled across the kitchen counter.

he kept the pillowcase,

unwashed,

from the last night they slept together

before she was gone.

he kept the mask that caressed

her face for the last time, a duty that should have been his.