Dragging the luggage

entry picture


I smoke and watch her pack.

The taxi waits.

Then like a premonition

I have a mirrored memory

of her departure

- the scent of her washed skin-

recalling the ins and outs

of our arguments...

She's smiling as she leaves

the echo of our space.

She's laughing as we fail

to finish yet

another argument...

I pick through the remains

of the accusations

that she broadcasts.

Then leaving

sighing she drags behind her

-like wheeled luggage-

the life that we once shared.


words and foto T Carroll

◄ Advice to the Elderly on Bonfire Night

The Woman at My Table ►


No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message