A Poem in Parts: Part 4

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On the Fourth Day

He’s feeling like he should shave. It’s been
since that night and it is way past 5 o’clock.
His eyes are

red and crusted over, presumably from crying,
though he promised himself a long time ago
that he would

no longer allow his eyes to water. He thinks
a lot about his mother right now, her kind,
warm embrace

and comforting words had soothed him before.
They could do the same thing now. He needed to
hear he was

a good man with a good and patient heart so
that he could learn to live on when the one part
of him that

pines still will become just another part of him.
He wishes he could see her again. To remember her face.
He went back

to the bar the night before only to find the
same beefeater that found him first.
He didn’t

feel much like being reacquainted, so he
sat and watched as other couples camped
and flirted.

Helena. Helena, my love.

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