Marital Rites
by Wallace Barker
Upon arrival I took my handbag down
shouldered it and walked the plane aisle
loitering in the airport pigeons
mere birds
left shoeless by the baggage cart
midnight with the arrivals and departures screen flickering
waiting on a late night flight
we were both so tired.
Strangers, we were not embarrassed to be seen by one another
fully dressed trying to sleep
without blankets on an airport bench.
It was more intimate
than obvious encounters I felt
as if we had been married for years
and sleeping together this way.
Me with my socks on knees curled under
you with a purse for a pillow.
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