poetry

tenuousness

the moment of leave-taking

seems strange

strained, somehow

as if one of us

or both of us

had a lot more to say

but had forgotten it

or been cut short

maybe it’s artificial

this idea of “goodbye”

and its attendant uncertainty …

will we, in fact, meet again?

will we both be in our bodies

when the morning breaks?

maybe this timidity

is a signpost

of our tenuousness

humanity given

to brevity

this side of paradise

where we are by nature

interrupted

twilight encroaching

on our endless day

maybe it’s too long

a word to say

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