Phil and Margaret

He brought them to your side wrapped in clingfilm:
Those sweet salted little moons.
You could barely chew or swallow
So he broke each into four uneven pieces
And you ate a few
Then slowly lifted your hand and patted his,
Shook your head.
He wrapped the rest back up.

And when I stood to go there was only goodbye to say.
No more.
Because all the ordinary lies could not be drawn out and dusted down
Because of what was known.
This was goodbye
And it was painful and you looked so afraid.

But those cashew nuts.
They were love.
And a life well lived.
So I left with a smile.
(And only later cried with my face pressed against the bathroom wall.)