Last Train Out
We waited in silence, impatient
passengers for the late train.
Goodbye stood, shifting
foot to foot, baggage in hand
He turned his brim down
over his eyes, curled it
the way the calla lily hides
in an August storm. Clouds
rumbled down the track.
We boarded, separate, overwhelmed
by the silence of this parting rush.
It raised my hair and kissed my nape.
That always was the most tender of spots.