Departure Poem by Glen Kirkland leaving home I stand with my dead grandmother's…

Departure Poem by Glen Kirkland leaving home I stand with my dead grandmother’s suitcases in hand coat slung carelessly over my shoulder the car loaded down with all my possessions packed in boxes tied doubly with string (like a refugee from some old movie) my father coughs shakes my hand and offers me a last-minute yellow screwdriver with Interchangeable heads my mother kisses me and says as long as I have a sense of humour I will survive In the doorway now I smile awkwardly and mutter goodbye
my mother asks again have you got everything yes I say I’ve got it all and frightened suddenly I want to paint my name In huge red letters on the ceilings and walls of every room carve my initials in the coffee table and leave a life-sized reproduction of myself asleep upstairs
To a Daughter Leaving Home Poem by Linda Pastan When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away on two round wheels, my own mouth rounding to surprise when you pulled ahead down the curved path of the park, I kept waiting for the thud of your crash as I sprinted to catch up,