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Tak Lagi Dekat

 

Melihat kita di ruang makan,
duduk lalu mengunyah dengan diam.
Pukul tujuh malam sudah tak ada bintang.
Katamu habis tertelan.
Tinggal semangkuk santan yang keruh,
lengkuas yang memar,
daun jeruk yang teriris dan mengambang.
Piring kotor itu
berserakan sebelum kita merencanakan
kemungkinan-kemungkinan :
kita, sudah tak lagi begitu dekat.


2021

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