Public Republic

Samantha Seto

Photo: jessgrrrr

My note travels across the room, past mobs of people,
it reaches his hands, before he slips it into trash,
My face flushes purple, anger rages, heart pounds.

In our timed and untimed arrivals,
pulleys to the elevator ascend.
Casually late, mail travels over double doors,
long-distance calls at airport.

Room dealt black and red deck of cards,
cheap perfume, left messages in parlors, postcard view.
Secrets packages turn to ash and canopies of dust,
meant for those far away.

Luggage tags, passports, travel haze.
Airplanes depart, passengers run to board plane,
shuttle to hidden magic at entrance.

Lines of travelers, past crowds of colorless blur,
angled mirrors, static of an old radio.
Crossword puzzles, smell of airborne sickness,
left waiting for him at gate 64.

He stares at me, tears flood my eyes,
Overwhelmed at the moment, peppermint scent.
Voice clings in bitterness to my throat,
search for the words to release.