We breathe the same air
  and split the same bed

We share a last name
  in silent lament

The children are out
  new grandchildren named

But frozen emotion
  has left us both lame

The sins of the one
  to the other are death

In terminal sorrow
  we take our last breaths

Time has no answer
  and not often kind

Our inner fruit rotten
—just leaving the rind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)