To watch your wife die on stage
can be a harrowing experience
where the suspension of disbelief
can be suspended in time.
as I sat, wedged in between strangers,
no one to comfort my unreal sorrowful
of what I would do if this were true.
She looks so real, so clear, so convincing
that I begin to feel the emptiness
of life without her,
looking at death
through the pit of my stomach,
through the eyes of our boys
through a lens with the cap on.
She dies and the lights go down.
Intermission (I go outside and breathe)
The lights come up,
her bed is empty.
I know she is sitting backstage somewhere
or drinking tea.
She can hear the dialogue just as I can,
but she has moved on
to her next lines, her next entrance.
I can only think of her exit in Act I
and how I don’t want to live without her,
how bright and beautiful she is.
How relieved I am when she bows to the audience.