Published in "Tarralla 2005" anthology, 2005.
by Barbara Welton
When I was having a
beer, he was rising for work.
The late news spoke
of bombings,
his morning was
brewing coffee.
When I went to bed,
he was greeted
in the office on a
Tuesday I'd already lived.
My midnight was his
morning break,
my lying awake,
tossing and coughing,
was his rushed
lunch hour.
When I rose for
work next morning
he was meeting
friends for dinner.
My morning break
was his having a beer.
At lunch time, I
got email from him,
the late news in
his background spoke of bombings.
My leaving work was
his lying awake, thinking
on a day I was
living before him.
And when I was
having a beer, he was rising for work.