Pieces of Rainbow

That morning, after the night before
As ev’r, nothing could remain the same
Little pieces of the rainbow were missing

As always, he stood and braced the chill
the wind that tore passed through
his body; withered fury of age
leaving impressions on the wall
behind him, a personal Hiroshima

With great care he cleaned up
locked the great knife in the cabinet
and washed the floors with raw soda

As ev’r the memories of her would
remain but nobody could see it
as ev’r the phone calls would cease and
the night would remain still

He took a flask of the heavy water he
had stored for events such as this

She paged through pages of her book
and picked up the receiver
dialled his number and listened to the
hum drum disconnection tone

a tear floating down her cheek
the sunlight grasping it and fracturing
it across the wall