This Too - Lewis Buchner

[Lawrence Robinson]

This Too

At dinner—
Julnar and Lindsey’s house—
good wine,
the kind of bread
you tear instead of slice.
My wife said
the lump they found
tested 
positive.

A fork clinked.
Someone shifted in their chair.
We’ve all had hard times—
the brain bleed
that made driving an adventure,
the divorce 
that took Camelot with it,
the bankruptcy
that emptied the factory.

Outside, behind our shop,
past the sawmill—
two brown horses graze 
in a field so generous and green.

I think of their stillness, 
then turn away
to the dishes and the glasses.

But she turns toward it,
all of it—
into the cold slanting rain.

This too, she says, 
and reaches through the fence,
and finds
a soft velvet nose,
a quick breath,
warm against her hand.

	- Lewis Buchner
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