by Angel Liu

Created on: October 14, 2010

flying home

faith is a vein of gold
i come home
and the streets are rudely warm
with sun, october’s indian summer
a debt paid late by the weather
there is no one, except the Ibo
driving the cab promising me
and well, the world that he’s going
home, back home to africa

I squint because I miss you
and it’s easier this way to express
the twinge and the twang of meeting
an empty road, at the airport
i cannot look at those waiting
my eyes are filled with envy for
those who long for figures
spilling from the very plane
I alighted from

They lean forward, love-anxious
the bubble thoughts read, “is it you?
are you here?  I have waited..”
Relief is soon for them and I’m grateful
to witness this, even if it blinds me.
Proof that the world is still right
in some ways, and that soon it
may be my turn to close my eyes
gratefully against you,
forehead to forehead, lash to lash
home at last.

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