Not Saying Goodbye at Gate 21

(Wellington NZ: September 2010)

The final call
for boarding
hand-luggage scanned,
the last, forgotten,
canned drink binned.
I watch him through the glass
walk to the door and hand
over his printed pass.

He waves,
makes the clown's face
that means 'Cheer up,
this time, I won't be gone
for long'. He turns,
then turns back, lifts one hand
to the terrorist-proof glass. We place
palm to palm
remembered skin

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poem by Kathleen Jones
Added by Poetry Lover
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