Leaving Home
The next morning we’d have to take the ferry
from Dover. The next morning I’d have to say
goodbye to my kids. The next morning
could wait.
In the old Cornwall pub,
Newcastle Steam Beer flowed freely, and Paula
fell in love with Paul. Not that anything happened,
mind you. It was just a spark that made
the hairs on my arms stand up.
Paul had a girlfriend,
Paula a husband.
The next morning was far away. But, eventually,
they called ‘Time’. And we all moseyed off.
Paula and I to my car. We had to get to London that
night. The next morning… oh, well, you’ve heard
that one by now. Heavy, drunk and my heart in knots
I made it from Cornwall to London in just over
three hours on angel wings, consciously not exceeding
the speed limit for fear they may stop me
and smell the Newcastle Steam Beer.
We got to my house.
We fell into our beds.
We slept.
We had all the stuff ready to go, and the morning
happened, that's what mornings do. We loaded
the car, I didn't see much.
I don’t remember whether the kids
let me kiss them. I hope they did.
I think I waved goodbye.
Rose Mary Boehm is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru. Her poetry has been published widely in mostly US poetry reviews (online and print). She was twice nominated for a Pushcart. Her fifth poetry collection, Do Oceans Have Underwater Borders, will be published by Kelsay Books at any moment now. https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/
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