Tom.

There are always ham and cheese sandwiches sitting there on clear rigid trays 

The ham is pink, flesh 

Dead, unmoving 

Probably sitting there overnight in the fridge covered up waiting for today when everyone will walk by carefully touching the surface 

Weeping 

I see her press her head against his chest 

It stays there 

Going bright red and wet within seconds as she chases her chin up and down as if saying yes

Reliving a memory they just shared with her 

I can see her crawling beneath the sheets 

Trying  to see if his scent still lives there 

Wishing she'd never complained about the crusty salsa bowl

Or the dirty boxers left out in public places of the home 

Faith walks by, says a few words about her grief 

Her eyes are puffy, & well up with water 

She is balancing a plate of salad 

With a ham sandwich, the bread sitting on it crookedly 

I wish I could fix it

all of it

I heard two stories today 

One about how he trained for Israel 

His large frame steadily moving

Preparing 

His hair cropped across the top like a stage 

And how he tromped through the backyard to his neighbors to find the high schoolers skating on an ice rink 

The music blaring 

His intent had been to shut them down 

But as he stood there, watching (it was two a.m.) he realized that boys will be boys and I think he remembered being their same age once 

He simply waved 

Said how you boys doing 

And turned, Tromping back over the yard to home 

We all stand 

Arms crossed awkwardly not look to hovering or brooding but also 

Not too happy at the same time 

We hide desserts in back rooms carefully selected 

Casually walking passed the tables of salads 

And ham sandwiches 

Hoping the carrots will be gone so we can refill them 

There were plenty of sandwiches left 

I'll have you know