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.