03-19-2012, 05:37 AM
V. 5 thanks to billy
last stanza edited
To and From
The boarding pass
in your small hand
bears our last name,
wrinkled and worn
above the emblem of an airline
and the couplet,
To and From.
These two words
pull and part
the way an airport can fill
or empty the back seat of a car.
Those six letters let you fly
alone, the first time,
next to a sleeping mother
whose son whispers lyrics
beside her. To your left,
an aisle filled in Queens
files away in Texas.
It will take only twenty steps
to reach the door,
1,500 miles away
from the hand
that pulled your suitcase,
the arms that held you
and released,
the checkpoint, and
the tremble of a wave.
V. 4
(props to billy, dale, bronte, abu, and mark)
changes- numerous!
played with tenses to make it try and make the piece more cohesive
Stanza 1 more closely resembles Erthona's suggestions (many thanks)
S. 3 changed "part and bring together" to "pull and part" to be more parallel with "fill...empty" in the next stanza
final two stanzas reworked
my appreciation to everyone's comments, they have been extraordinarily helpful
To and From
The boarding pass
in your small hand
bears our last name,
wrinkled and worn
above the emblem of an airline
and the couplet,
To and From.
These two words
pull and part,
the way an airport can fill
or empty the back seat of a car.
Those six letters let you fly
alone, the first time,
next to a sleeping mother
whose son whispers lyrics
beside her. To your left,
an aisle filled in Queens
files away in Texas.
It will take only twenty steps
to reach the door,
1,500 miles away
from the hand
that pulled your suitcase,
the arms that held you
and released,
the checkpoint where,
glancing back, you walked out of view.
----------
V. 3 complete rewrite
title changed
To and From
In your palm, a ticket curled
as the terminal grew
larger than any window in the car.
The boarding pass, wrinkled,
bore our last name
above the couplet
To and From,
words that part
and bring together
the way an airport
can fill or empty the back seat.
Those six letters let you fly
alone, the first time,
next to a sleeping mother
whose son whispers lyrics
beside her. To your left,
an aisle filled in Queens
will file away in Texas.
It takes only twenty steps
to reach the door,
1,500 miles away
from where it last opened,
near the full garage
where we parked and smiled,
the checkpoint
where, glancing back,
you walked out of view.
v. 2
"tend to" and "though" added to S.6
Half a goodbye
carried you down the jet way,
the other half tangled
with the keys in my pocket.
The handshake had ended. The revolving door
folded you into the lobby.
The attendant shipped your bag North,
the same bag you emptied
from my trunk like a bullet
from a barrel. Now that you are
gone, there is nothing
to pile on the backseat, the same
seat you emptied
when the terminal walked up
to your window
and knocked.
I tend to drive alone with the radio
off, your window cracked
and tuned to the breeze, though
a block from home
I noticed
the stereo was on,
no wind to course through
the ache of a guitar
and no one else to hear.
V. 1
Half a goodbye
carried you down the jet way,
the other half tangled
with the keys in my pocket.
The handshake had ended. The revolving door
folded you into the lobby.
The attendant shipped your bag North,
the same bag you emptied
from my trunk like a bullet
from a barrel. Now that you are
gone, there is nothing
to pile on the backseat, the same
seat you emptied
when the terminal walked up
to your window
and knocked.
Though I drive alone with the radio
off, your window cracked
and tuned to the breeze,
a block from home
I noticed
the stereo was on,
no wind to course through
the ache of a guitar
and no one else to hear.
Written only for you to consider.