She looked beyond the sink–
filled with soapy water and chipped cups–
out the open window to the western sky,
which flamed with orange and red,
like heaven itself were burning to the ground.

The living-room stereo
delivered the "Flower Duet"
from her favorite opera, Lakmé.

It was the music
that translated dish-washing
into reverie.

Were you there,
you would have heard her long sigh.
Were you there,
you might have asked,
"Honey–you all right?"

But you were not there,
nor was I.
She was,
as ever,
alone,
alone with the divine harmony
and the scorched sky.

Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.