He cannot feel with his eyes
The pearls around her pale neck 
On the cotton fibers weeping 
Gentle breaths up and down 

He cannot feel 
The pulsating sink of every heart-aching 
Beat 
Of her disappointment 
On those lovely days when she
Believes

He cannot touch with hands
Or ears
The clawing in her throat
To block the coming-up of golden memories
Turned gray and mocking

Laying still;
A child in a womb-
She drowns out the patience

He cannot see
That the strobe-light guilt she endures
Is in honor of the past moments
When she thought they would not be
But they were

All he reaches is the angry 
Pleads
And written whispers