Cyphers Magazine

Publishing poetry, prose and art since 1975

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Supriya Kaur Dhaliwal

 It will take us fifty minutes
 to reach the nearest airport.
 Mom will insist that I sit
 in the front seat. Dad will drive.
 We will try our best to take care
 of the small talk business.  
 My eyes will twitch with a tear or two
 like the wick that is not the correct size
 for the candle. The winter’s silverware
 on the hills won’t have corroded yet.  
 It could take me from six months  
 to a year to make the journey back.  
 I know Mom will have secretly packed  
 enough saffron for me to last a lifetime
 yet she will say, ‘Take some more kesar
 for the road. We don’t know  
 when we will see you next.’