going away: a night left behind

you wouldn’t know this day coming. the 3 AM alarm buzzing by the pillow, and my dismissing it instantly, as if waiting, which I were in an acidic insomnia; before staggering through the dark hallway to your room. with a soft tap, i wait with my knuckles on the door’s shiny timber hearing you wake: the rustle of your clothes, your bare heels lowered to the marble. it’s always the same. platform number 2. sparing its somnambulist travellers the...

going away: the day before

the kitchen’s unusually quietthis morning.no clankingof pots or ofwater runningdown the sink.the counterstoo are clean;untouched.there’s no marinatedmeat glowingsaffron in turmericawaiting by the flame.only a pot of ricesteams quietlyon the oven,boiling starchbubbling to its neck.and next to itin a deep bowl,shimmers the lastsupper’s remains. i cut out the rice’s flame, looking for her. she is in the adjacent room, hauling from under the bed her maroon...