Last Night




Press your key
into my palm,
offer me your home
once more. Turn
the bed down, leave
on the light. Spread
a sheet across the sofa,
fold your legs
in half to sleep.


When the call
comes at 1:00 a.m.,
ask through darkness
if I want you to go
with me. Ignore
my lonely bravado—
I got this—
follow behind me
in your jeep.

When I wander
into the dim hall
outside her room
and ask the nurse
what should I do now?
appear with a smile,
embrace, and book
of prayers
for the dead.


Stand with me
by her still form
and offer words:
rest … perpetual
light … peace …
Raise your hand
to bless. Touch
my arm when I lean
down to kiss her
one more time.


Pour white wine
in an orange cup.
Listen to me tell again
how long I waited
at that traffic light
on Kingston Pike
until finally I ran
them all. Marvel
that I put on earrings
rushing out
the door. Remember
how she loved me
in gold hoops.


Mary Anne Reese is an attorney and writer in Cincinnati, Ohio. Her poetry chapbooks from Finishing Line Press are Raised by Water (2011) and Down Deep (forthcoming). She has a graduate degree in English with a concentration in creative writing from Northern Kentucky University. Whenever she can, she walks and swims in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

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