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
