Sally Bliumis-Dunn

Angie, Leaving

I watch her differently now,
frame her smiling
in the kitchen doorway,
blow drying her hair
in the mirror; I add
a random
an image here, image
there to the invisible album
I keep of her inside me:
riding a two- wheeler,
gap of missing teeth.
Now, as she readies
herself for college,
it’s the ordinary I linger on –
her leaving, too large
for any one thing; it’s more
uniform, indiscriminate
something like fog; no
more like snow.
And I don’t see, but feel
the air, full of her
lovely falling.
Isn’t it always like this –
joy and sorrow calling
to each other
across an open field.
How strange the heart’s
equivalents –
she is leaving:
it is snowing.

Sally Bliumis-Dunn
“Angie, Leaving” is from Talking Underwater (Wind Publications, 2007).