In his absence, her thoughts run
to him, though she rises up
under another man.
When the new man leaves her
as good as alone, she switches off
the lamp and thinks of the faithful,
how they paced widows-walks
for a glimpse of their wanderers
hoisting themselves over the horizon.
Hours tail each other like bad drivers
chuffing past her window. High-beams
crisscross shadows, and light climbs
the wall. It never lingers long enough
before it turns to go.
by Cheryl Snell
from Autumn Sky Poetry Number 5, March 2007