Poems & Essays

06 Nov


General/Column No Response

It’s the leaving
that’s so hard,
not the being away.
I do not cry
over picked-up floors
or tight-made beds
I do not miss
the toothpaste
spatter on windexed
mirror, the toilet
paper trailing the floor
nor even the laughter,
binge-watching one
show after another
the lazy mornings
breakfast at noon
pajamas from dawn
till dusk. I do not
fret about the roof
caving in, St. Fratty’s
day, or the missed
periods, the B grades,
the coloreds mixed
in with whites, the
diet, the Redds
chasing away
the blues.
But the moment
I most dread
is the one that arrives
as you do,
welcome goodbye,
that makes
its presence felt
in the smell of
your skin, the sound
of your backpack
hitting the floor
carelessly, filling
the room with
unquiet, disarray
the wallet, the keys
on a string, the phone
charger, all clamoring
even before
you bend down
to kiss my cheek hello.


Tina Pocha was born and raised in Bombay, India. She is a scientist by training and a writer by avocation. She is a mother of two and a recent empty-nester who works as an academic in the field of language and literacy. A new and emerging poet, Tina has been published in Cadence Collective, Eunoia Review and r.k.vr.y with more publications forthcoming in Hyacinth Press and East Jasmine Review. You can find more of her writing at www.tinapocha.com.

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