Union Square
– after Reds; for Charlie
After you let me go,
I’ll leave quietly and not look back.
The idea of you disappearing,
of space opening between us,
won’t break my heart again.
And yet I want to tell you one thing,
about this movie you’ve never seen,
where two people who have been
separated by time and circumstance
find each other at a crowded train station,
just like Union Square is tonight.
They’ve both had other lovers,
left things unsaid, gone different ways,
but somehow found their way back.
They promised to always find each other.
You see, it’s the look on her face
when she turns, the crowd parts
and he’s at the other end of the platform,
after not seeing him for a hundred days:
happiness and relief, sadness and grief,
and every emotion in between.
They close the distance,
fall into each other’s arms
and the camera lingers on her face
resting on his shoulder.
She closes her eyes, such a simple thing,
and you know that, no matter what happens
in the future, love will remain.
Which is to say, when I turn and the crowd
parts and you are coming toward me
down the platform, maybe you didn’t notice,
but I closed my eyes for just a moment.
Thankful you came to find me, thankful
to fall into your arms one more time.
And I felt happiness and relief,
sadness and grief, but most of all love.
This is not a love poem, but a promise poem:
I’ll always come looking for you. Find you.
I’ll be at the other end of the platform.
Collin Kelley is a poet and novelist from Atlanta, GA. His most recent collection is Midnight in a Perfect World (Sibling Rivalry Press) and he co-edited Mother Mary Comes To Me: A Pop Culture Poetry Anthology (Madville Pubishing).
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