Next year I will be done,
she says to herself,
down the dark, rain-slick road,
but there is a pair of eyes,
another pair of eyes,
filling up the space behind curtains,
around a corner,
across a shop,
and before they give a whisper
she knows their trouble

and knows that though it carries
double weight
on her soul
that their pain can be eased
and she must be the one to do it
because,
after all,
they have everything to lose,
and she has done all of her losing already.