Does Not Compute

Dear ____________,

I am the other side of your equation.

You worry for those you will leave behind.

But me? I am the one who has been left.

I used to think we were different,

but now I’m not so sure.

As a mother, you think: There will be no one here

         who knows what it felt like to have

         him kick inside the darkness of my womb.

As a lover, I think: there now is no one left

        who knows my kick in bed at night

        in the darkness of our room.

But this is where we differ –

you seem, at least, to face your future

without fear for yourself, worried instead

for the safety of those who death

will take you from. While I am satisfied

that the one I love is safe in death,

but am terrified to be here alone.

The thing about equations

is that they are supposed to

equal out at the end, and

I don’t believe ours does.

For I am minus your bravery,

     or, at least,

     your bravado.