There's that same old
sun hung up in the sky

my my how
time goes by

he can only just
catch sight of

his dead wife's smile

as the earth treks
around that same old

star
the exact timbre

of her
voice

lost to him now
as galaxies revolve

the days torn away
from the fabric of time

the 1963
gas station calendar

with a bikini'd girl
smiling in Kodachrome

the dates
in bright red

telling it how
it is

63 days to be
exact

since she fell
off the edge of the earth

into the infinity
of death.

The dawn
inches up the lawn

like some wounded
creature.

Cartoon music
form a too loud

television
in another room.

He calls her name"
"June...June...June!"