April 21, 2015

One poem by Richard Luftig


I was ten and playing
the piano when he
walked out the door,

down the drive.
I waved but don’t think
he saw. He died

that day. Now,
I can’t let anyone
leave without saying

goodbye, saying
I love you. If you
are going to work,

going to war,
it does not matter.
I must give you a kiss.

I think it drives most people nuts.

Richard Luftig is a former professor of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio now residing in Pomona, CA. He is a recipient of the Cincinnati Post-Corbett Foundation Award for Literature and a semi finalist for the Emily Dickinson Society Award. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals in the United States and internationally in Japan, Canada, Australia, Europe, Thailand, Hong Kong and India.

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