you never understood how he could sit
there, in front of the temple, serene
not crying, not shouting, not begging
for the gods to bring them back;
you never believed in the gods.

and you still don't understand how he could leave you
there, in the loud heat of summer, watching
with your heart in your throat as he—
well, they say it was a sacrifice,
that he was a hero.

but now you, with your fists clenched, sit
there, in front of the temple, and try
not to scream for the gods to bring him back;
he claimed he didn't believe in the gods,
but he, for all his science,

bent his head at their graves and prayed
there, with sincerity, prayed
into his cap before test days, prayed
for you, that you would find
in the heavens fulfillment

but the heavens cannot be redeemed,
and with you the gods will never find favour;
you refuse to believe that the universe
would take a moment from breathing its stars
to willingly steal the people who stole your attention;

is that it?
did the universe need your attention;
were you too distracted by love and contentment
and hands to hold and hugs to give;
was this its plan?

you want to climb up to the sky and
there, say, you would have noticed
on your own; you are clever enough
to have become what you are
without its help.

but what's done is done and you lie
there, awake and it is late enough
to see the sun rise
above the cityscape, without him,
in the loud heat of summer