Gorgeous, Hateful Colander

And that too-soon taxi

This colander is the shape of my grief, steadily rinsing some such veg, cold water gushing over my wrists, a small curse on my lips for this inanimate object that embodies the last thirty minutes we couldn’t spend together.

I said “See you in a couple of weeks” as I rushed out the door for the too-soon taxi. Your eyes flickered, hesitant and wild as distant bells tolled, chiming for you, but you settled into a pained smile. It was the last living time we saw one another. I had wondered if it would be as I killed time in the station shops cursing that too-soon taxi, my eyes resting on a beautiful metal colander. I didn’t expect it to come true. The thought was as fleeting as the flicker in your eyes had been.

When I reach for this gorgeous, hateful colander now, this all replays to me. Your expression, the click of the door, our both knowing and yet not knowing that it was the end. I turn the taps on too fast, water tracing my hard, living edges, running through the holes and away. Running far, far away.

August 2022