Last Goodbye
by Oonah V Joslin

That’s me aged five
hanging in shadow by the door
barefoot. The linoleum is January cold;
the kitchen light stark yellow.

It’s still dark.
Mammy clashes dishes in the sink.

Are you really not going to give us a kiss?
He tries. She turns away. He misses.
I have to go to work, you know. I’ll
see you on Friday then.

He shoulders his rucksack
opens the door, looks back,
sees me and smiles. A wee wave
from the threshold.

How long have you been standin’ there? she says.
When it’s time to get up I’ll tell you.
She aims a bussock at my behind
and I run back upstairs.

And that’s me in shadow;
eclipsed forever in goodbye.

PHOTOGRAPH: The author at age three in her father’s sash.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Oonah V Joslin was born in Northern Ireland. She is a poet and writer of short and micro fiction. She is three times winner of MicroHorror’s annual competition and has work in many online sites and anthologies. You may follow her and her work at Parallel OonahverseFormerly Managing Editor of Every Day Poets, Oonah is currently Poetry Editor at The Linnet’s Wings.