Shelter from Fallout

Perhaps it was all in my head.
After dinner (Persian eggplant dish
I took hours preparing), no hug,
no goodbye, not even Thank you
at the door.

You just up and left. Did you have too much
to carry, or maybe a headache?
More likely, your mind was on George,
waiting outside in silence, his car motor
already running.

On my way down the hall
to the bathroom, I banged the right wall
with my fist, first by accident, then again,
with more of a wind-up.

When these conflicts arise
between longtime friends, what hope
can we have for our nation,
the planet, a universe?

Apology calls the next morning
may not happen at all,
or come in far too late.



About the Poet:
Barbara Saxton has worked as a translator, financial consultant, and educator. She is now a retired English teacher, singer, dancer, relentless outdoor enthusiast, and published poet (Dual Exposure – 2015 – and various literary journals/anthologies).

She lives in Mountain View, California, with her husband Owen and a cat named Kolo. Their two adult sons reside in San Jose and San Francisco.



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