And the dregs of our last argument
surround us in the silence
Leading to the airport.
Hauling out my bags and then
confronting naked grief
Shatters my control.
Crying silent I avoid
the arms you do not raise,
And walk into the airport.
The ticket counter lady,
pretending not to notice;
Blessed kindness.
And the thought of friends awaited
is suddenly cold comfort
Without you.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
Connecticut
December 29, 1992