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EmailFarewells (a poem)
Martin Herskovitz
Israel
I went to say goodbye to my parents
when they left the country
my mother was busy the whole visit
packing up the leftovers
so I hardly had a chance to say goodbye
Hurry home before the dairy products spoil
was the last thing she said as she closed the door
I stood in the parking lot
laden with tupperware
feeling alone
The next day I sat hunched over her reheated soup
my hands on both sides of the bowl
my fingers warmed by the porcelain
the steam rose about my face.
as I waited for the soup to cool.
It has taken too much of a lifetime to learn
how to live in a family
where you eat soup
instead of saying goodbye