Lost Keys
Dan still waves back from the porch but can’t
hear my Good morning, place my face—
and so, to an end, no better for being known.
Gwen keeps looking for lost keys
to locked doors, the way Bluebeard’s last wife
would, in the same passion for normalcy.
Behind one door is their wedding day.
She will ask, Don’t you remember the church?
and show him photos. Dan is puzzled.
His naval career, behind another door.
She recalls for Dan the good years in Aberdeen,
the first pregnancy. Attention wanders.
Someday, she knows, he will absentmindedly
walk through another door, and she
will hear the lock click after him. It happened
to a friend of hers. She asked the friend’s
advice. Tears welled up in that woman’s eyes,
yet she smiled and said, Just live your life.
Seven-time Pushcart Prize nominee Russell Rowland writes from New Hampshire’s Lakes Region, where he has judged high school Poetry Out Loud competitions. His latest poetry book, Wooden Nutmegs, is available from Encircle Publications (2020).