before the storm

The sky is about to break when
I hear your voice in the hallway.
You seesaw into the mailroom

slowly. I notice the veins on your
forearms; how many ways bones can go
wrong. You are my hero, I say.

Your smile does not hide your pain.
You tell me about the day you met
your wife, where you stood in the church

when that blonde goddess walked in.
Where would you be without her now,
you say. And I want to cry at this strength

and brokenness. I tell you I’ve met
someone. I look down, embarrassed,
but you say it makes you want

to kiss me. I grin at such a compliment.
I hold the doors open as we move into
the heat, the rain has just begun,

and you tell me not to be afraid--that’s
his name afterall--and I say I’ll try. I ask you
to pray for me before thunder breaks.