Poems by Jonna

You look away,

Away towards the city, the parties, the light.

Your hand still in mine,

Slightly damp from the walk here.

In the early autumn air.

I gaze at you,

Words on the tip of my tongue.

I want to move closer to you.

But the gray concrete

feels like quicksand under my feet.

 

If you brushed my cheek and looked at me,

I’d forget everything,

forgive everything.

The speaker crackles

announces that my train is about to depart.

 

People push past,

but I remain still,

Caught in your grasp,

In your unseeing eyes.

 

You turn to me and ask,

“Will I see you next weekend?”

I answer yes.

But I know you’re not really there.

Not truly.

 

I back away toward my train,

Your back already fading into the crowd.

In the leather jacket we bought on our trip to Italy.

We won’t see each other next weekend.

Or the one after that.

Or the one after that.