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The Rag

The apology - never said -
then life goes on, as if
the harm was
no more than dust
to be wiped away,
rag tossed aside
as easily as his guilt.

She held that rag,
wiped the dust,
with each new coating
saw her reflection
bright with expectation
as the dust thickened on the floor,
her focus misplaced.

As the rag grew thinner
she wiped less quickly,
then once - she paused -
looked at her reflection
before the dust settled,
saw a different face.

She set the rag down.

Poetry by Melinda K Zarate