James Keane

Homecoming, Newark Airport

I don’t know what you went through
(or went screaming through you)

over there. But since I’ve never been,
all appears forgotten in the walkway

from the plane. Your family beaming, still
as you stride up a steady hill to the

WELCOME HOME someone (all of them?)
committed to cloth just knowing

you were coming back. And here you stand.
Back. Smiles and silence

all around. A hug, patiently,
for your mother. A shove, playfully,

for your sister. Then all there is
is your father. His tight grip. His tightening

grin. Branded with a savage
kiss on both sides of your neck.