Frances Koziar
The Price

When
he
is gone,
you change: shift
in the light, colours
blossoming. You smile / and look up
and look forward / to tomorrow, forget—almost—that
he
will
return.

Then, the world
darkens, worry holds
fast, your voice dries like rain beneath
a desert sun. You watch his moods / like a sailor looks
up
at
storm clouds
gathering.

Love to you is all
that matters, worth any / price, worth
dreams you once wove / into the wind and between / the stars.