Plyzhnik’s Farewell
When a kiss is more than goodbye
to coffee and the office morning
the tender parting of husband and wife,
when the cell that awaits you
calls goodbye in the moment’s farewell
and the island which resents
your civilian discomfort,
your brotherless disdain, then
you stop for a moment
and with young uniformed permission
sit in silence where you wrote
and thought through the thickness
of animated brute voices which
cluck chuckle or choke wordless
as you rise fastened in thought
and kiss your wife more than
goodbye.
Piano Music
like a slight chill
that touches warmth;
my mind’s eye
on your smooth mouth.
like a small breath
that shapes the absurd
flicker of candle light;
dreams of an evening’s youth.
like a little girl
with soft feet; fingers
dancing on steep, black keys.
Born in Canada of Ukrainian descent, Ihor Pidhainy lives and works in the American South, where he teaches. His poetry has appeared in over two dozen journals including Washington Square Review, In Parentheses, The Louisville Review & Fleur-de-Lis Press, and Merion West Poetry. Follow him at pidhainyihor (Instagram) and ihor Pidhainy’s writings (Facebook).
Featured image in this post is “Piano Keys Close Up,” by Puikstekend, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
