That Day

I remember the details
of that day. Every
single minute
of that day.

First phone call.
I was silent, your friend
was in tears.

"They're waiting for the dental
analysis. It hasn't yet
been confirmed that it was him."

My heart shrank
into a motionless, wounded
bird, trying to flutter
away.
The wait felt like a thousand
needles sinking into
my skin.

Second phone call.

"His lieutenant said they
attacked the tank and
nobody was seen running
away. Let's
pray he ran away.

I imagine you,
covered in flames.
I imagine you,
in my arms, kissing me.
I imagine you,
screaming for help,
running aimlessly.
I imagine you,
asleep next to me.

I imagine you
calling me to say
"Don't pick up your phone anymore,
they'll lie to you, I'm not gone,
I'm still here."

Third phone call.

"I'm so sorry... it was him.
Are you gonna be alright? Hello?
You there?"

I imagine you,
in a coffin, buried under the ground,
as I tighten my grip,
then feel my ribs,
remembering your words:
"Still here"