Airport
Aubade
(Lesbian
Departure)
As she stands
at the check-in counter, I wait to see
bright
patterned luggage on the weighing machine.
My feather
puffer jacket fits fatly around me in the cold morning light,
enfolding me
like the Michelin man
floating above an empty car yard.
Her white silk
scarf which, in the rush, she left with me
lies furled
around my neck.
She released
it quick.
It holds her
shimmering outline;
a memory of
moulding to my back, belly, breast.
I lean into a
silver guardrail and hear her
laughing
between clattering departure boards.
Strands of
light extend into daytime walls.
Her swirling
flower suitcase jostles along a conveyer belt
and disappears
through vertical rubber blinds.
Her red coat,
in glassed escalators
flows glorious
in metallic waterfall.
I am marooned
on the concourse,
waving my
feathered arm as she glides away
like strobe
light among the crowd.
I linger at
her exit gate until the last slice of her.
The fading
heel of her boot;
a sleeve flips, then sinks back.
The quiet silk
scarf at my cheek
slips into my
blood stream.
By
Gina Cole
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