for Leslie Hansen
Nobody talked of leaving, you didn’t want to go.
But I saw your body start a journey.
Home, I suppose, in a series
of internal farewells.
Nobody talked of parting, you didn’t want to leave
at last for the hospital and its iron
waiting rooms. You hadn’t booked a passage
still there was space: a room
flowers, curtains, some kind of view.
We hadn’t talked of parting, you didn’t plan to go.
But you did go, very quickly, within two weeks.
A long time, many days. I waved at first
brought flowers, fruit for a journey
we never said you were on. Later
I learned to sit.
Nobody talked of leaving, you didn’t want to go.
But you’d gone already, such a very long way.
Too far to talk. Across unspeakable distances
you looked straight at me. One fat tear
stumbled across your cheek.
Nobody spoke of leaving. You didn’t want to go.