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…and I realized
the last time
we were on a Via train
I left with you
and came back empty.
There was Rue St. Catherine
steak and frites
and streams
of red
in the cavernous
basement mall bathroom.
The doctor was kind
things were too bright
too blurry
The train ride back was me spending time
emailing everyone
that you were gone.
I think this train ride
will be fine. But
oddly enough
the students I teach now
are the same age
you would have been.
What a powerful poem. The enjambments do a lot of heavy lifting here – especially these lines “and streams/ of red/ in the cavernous/ basement mall bathroom.” Until the basement line, this could be a love affair gone wrong over a dinner. On a re-read, I notice the word “empty” and it hits me in a whole new way. Oof. I am sorry for your loss and grateful that you can share it, especially because we so rarely talk about miscarriage. I know it was a long time ago, but hugs anyway.
Heidi Allum 
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