Tonight

Tonight

by diane sismour

tonight wasn’t to end this way.
i imagined her saying, no.
to turn away a life together, but she hadn’t.

we celebrate with champagne; the bubbles make her happy.
light as air, she calls her soul, springing to the music.
her red dress flares as a tulip, cupping her body.

tonight wasn’t to end this way.
skinny dipping in the neighbor’s hot tub. snowflakes melting
above us, her skin glistening whiter than the crystals,
shimmering in the streetlight at my touch.

tonight wasn’t to end this way.
her skin soft next to mine, paler than the moon waning above.
her soft snores vibrate my heart as a violin stroked gently.

tonight wasn’t to end this way.
singing a melody meant for our child. a hand on her still small belly, her scent a blend of ocean and oils smoothed over her limbs warm and tan.

tonight wasn’t to end this way
her robe covers translucent skin, stretched and thin. stomach
bulging, tight and still. no kicks, no movement, monitors
peeping, wires attached to places I kissed this morning.

tonight wasn’t to end this way
if only she had said, no, to hear me say goodbye.