When your husband dies, vary your story.
Never settle for the uninteresting
truth. You, remember, were the woman
some fortune teller or drunken lover
said would die in white across an expanse
of grand piano - gunshot, bad drugs.
You are not one for the gentle common.
A decent man dies, his heart a fallen cake.
Tell it better....
...Tell his friends he died inside of you,
moaning his blood cry, making you cling, you
both far away eating berries, rubbing sticks.
Say he was often a surprising
lover, vigorous, and terrifying.
Just like that.
He was a passionate man, hungry but sure.
Tell no one he died in his sleep, gasping
for his share of air....