Scalpel at the airport

Those stainless steel

carts stacked with

gray tubs for shoes,

belts, and other

precious things?

I hadn’t noticed their

gleaming surface

before, not till the day

I said to my last born

goodbye

That’s when 

I saw how

they resemble

operating tables,

and something carved

me open as I watched

him pass through the

security arch, disappear,

moving his life away.

Clean cut, no sutures,

left to heal with time.

So fast, no one even saw.

I bent my arm

to wave not grasp,

lifted my lips against

the gravity of sorrow

and blew him a kiss.

Image from marinabroere.blogspot.com