This poem is taken from Stand 217, 16(1) March - April 2018.

Roy Marshall Three Poems
Breaking the News

A nightshift can make you
so very tired. But after fighting for
and losing a life, you feel as adrenalized
as you were at nineteen,
driving fast through darkness
before you knew better
on roads you knew blind.
Or lit up with love, those days
before the millennium.

It’s a kind of nakedness, to stand
before someone’s daughter
or son, hoping they might know
what’s to come, might guess
from the look in your eyes.
Take a breath. Offer
your arm. Take a breath.
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