The Last Night

MADELINE SHARPLES

How could I have known 
it would be the last night? 
A night like all the others: 
the low creaking groan 
of the garage door, 
tires screeching to maneuver 
into the narrow place, 
the roar of the engine before silence. 
Then, slamming the door, 
my son, sweeps down the long hall, 
calling out hello in his deep friendly voice. 
I startle as I hear his heavy strides 
pass my door, 
and I call out to him. 
Returning, he enters my room—
standing, staring, looking more calm 
than I’ve ever seen him. 
His blue eyes like sapphires 
fringed with thick dark lashes 
never leave mine while we speak. 
My lips kiss his cheek 
cool as alabaster. I marvel at his smile—lips 
barely turned up not showing his teeth. 
He looks like the angel he will soon become. 
He has already found peace.

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