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Pillowcase

I’m in bed, talking
to my pillowcase–I see
your face, the same way
I saw it at the party you threw
right before Christmas.

.                                  You smiled
and said Aw, shucks,
a patch of red wine, spilled
in a purple mess
on your pink dress, sinking
into you.

.                             I wanted to say
something, but he
came sooner to your rescue, trying
to wipe it away. (But smearing it–he
didn’t know how.)

.                          And now
it’s January first
but the only change
is the calendar on my wall.
And, as my head falls, my pink pillowcase
with one, then two
purple oval dots.

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