Moving Pictures of Soldiers, and Goodbyes

( Something for my husband today. He is missed )

She sat silent, pressing
palms together,while her head sky dives
into psalms being said,
by a girl in a movie, (talkie, talkie)

about a world going to war,and home.
She peeks through fingers
at the scary part, him already distant
in thought, gearing up in camo smiles,

screening her civilian eyes.
Colorado has given orders
that this is enough warmth, flicking cold
grenades into black,and white clouds,
while cliches of rain weep with starlets.

Their mascara never runs.
But she doesn’t have the glamour they do.
She records after-blast stains for posterity,
found, and kissed on their bedsheets.

She recalls this weather well.

Downpours;that’s all
Hollywood thinks a soldier’s life is.
But they don’t know how she, and he film
linens with laughter.

Awakening to an all-clear morning,
her anger drizzles, still…
(Yeah… that rain again)
Because the sun is not given

leave to smile until he comes home,
and she does as well.
That’s how it’s done
in pictures shows anyway.