December 26, 2013The ExCharlotte Innes

“Did you love him?” my friend asked, as I mowed the lawn.
I stopped, surveyed the shredded grass for a moment, torn
between what I believed was true and what I thought
might be. I wasn’t sure. “Well?” “I think I bought
a story. I mean we did. God, it seemed—” “Go on.”

He turned the radio off. Peace! All summer long,
we’d listened to unrelenting Olympic cheer from dawn
to dusk, while all my thoughts had wrestled down the fraught
            “did-you-love-him”

question. Crushing “yes!” Spitting “no!” That it was “wrong”
to want to call—though just to help us both move on,
of course. My friend began to carve the lamb. “You’ll sort
it out. Let’s eat.” “But the lawn …” “… can wait. Look, I’ve brought
your favorite wine.” And the full moon rising seemed to yawn,
            “Did you love him?”