By W.I. Stoneberger
She watches the homecomings on television,
the soldiers the sailors returning from Iraq.
She watches the wives the girlfriends
waiting for their embrace, tears in their eyes.
And there are tears in her eyes too,
tears of sorrow of jealousy of rage.
She wants her husband to come home.
She wants to wait by the dock by the door,
until she sees him walking toward her.
She wants to run into his arms,
crying and laughing at the same time.
She wants him to take her face
into his hands and kiss her
like its V-J day in Times Square.
She wants him to take back
what he did that night.
She wants them to show the women
of the ones who do not return.
She wants to see how they handle it,
whether they break down
or set their faces into still porcelain,
if they wear their sunglasses
even if its overcast, like she does.
She wants him to come back,
just come back to her.