Third.

There are birds that sing in the middle of the night.
I know this because my window is rolled down
while my headlights light up the spray of the sprinklers
and it is hard to remember the gate code at 1 am.
It has been a long day.
It takes three tries.

He has tried  three times.
I know because I have heard the story
to each doctor, over and over again.
Today I took the suicide note
out of my husband's jean pocket
where he meant for me to find it
later. 

I gave it back to him,
told him I wouldn't claim it,
refused the weight of grief he tried
to tie around my neck.
It has been a long night.
There has been night after night
and days so dark, I can't recall the sun.

But tonight, there is a bird singing
in the blackness that envelopes me.
Tonight I soaked up death with charcoal
and tomorrow I will set it ablaze.
There is a bird singing in the dark
and I can damn well sing too.