On leaving

by Ian Burnette

Not loving
           


            or loveless.

 

Like boarding the windows of a house

 

            before rain.

 

Like a mother

 

            in a World War movie

 

waving goodbye to her children

 

            as they slide away into the distance

 

on an air raid train.

 

Like an air raid. But when the planes

 

            open up to the sky,

 

to their surprise,

 

            nothing falls from inside them.

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