Six months, long enough for hair to grow
lush and luxurious, and Rapunzel thick
but six months is more than a time stretch,
more than hair elongating, for me
I am at the train station, it is not dark nor fair
trains arrive and depart on time, nothing changes
the platform is wet with thunder and the fur of a few dogs
it is clear, stretched, waiting
You step toward me, your belly slacking
carrying the homeland in the white folds of your skin
you advance towards where I stand
hug me like it was yesterday you left
I hold you back, like you are leaving
tomorrow.
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