They won’t leave me at the airport

when I go back.

They will wait.

Park the truck,

carry my bags to the counter.

They won’t cry

and I won’t neither.


Dad will tuck bills

into the fold of my hand.

A little something

before I go back to the monopoly-colored

money in my wallet.


Mom will call me her baby

because even now,

all growed up and living away,

I am.


They’ll watch me pass security.

I won’t look back.




Jennifer deBie is an MA in Creative Writing student at University College Cork in Cork, Ireland. She is also a recent graduate of Angelo State University, a native Texan, and an aspiring poet, novelist, short story-ist, and general scribbler. Her work has appeared in Sound Historian, Quarryman, and will soon appear in Apricity literary journal.