IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
Liminal
A poem
How do I describe my life
to you?
Imagine a dimly lit party room.
People drifting in and out
for a cigarette break on the balcony
lit up with fairy lights.
A little drunk,
strangers dropping pretenses.
In passing, speaking of
that snag of wanting to be someplace else,
the odd character their father was,
or the one that got away.
A sigh.
A hollow laugh.
A final shake of the head
as the spark goes out from their eyes
and the lone cigarette’s lip —
a shared smoke and something else
— between the two of them.
They walk back into the party.
Strangers once again.
Sometimes, their fingers touch
as they reach for
the bottom of the bowl of nachos
with a tangy salsa dressing.
Soggy. Stale.
The bottom leftovers.
Everything yet to happen is
already a memory.
Thank you for reading!
© 27th April 2024. All Rights Reserved. Anushree Bose
