A Visit Back Home by Irena Ioannou

By Irena Ioannou

 

New mayor, new Christmas decoration and

I stumble upon some people I used to know.

I talk to the ones I recognize, how many years

and the rest. They all recall my first name;

I’m the one who got away. Some of my possible

versions, had I not left, are modeled on friends

attending catch up coffees. It could be me

marrying that classmate whose yellow booger

accompanied his right nostril, or the one

who eloped with her French teacher. Another

one started running all marathons in the area,

you literally leave your past behind you

with each step, she says and chuckles—this one

is a poet. They do the talking and the paying,

this is not your home any more, they point out.

A strange thought creeps in my mind: was I scared

off, or did they throw me out? They all look so happy.

 

Profil Irena

Irena Ioannou writes from Crete, Greece where she lives with her husband and four children. She is a columnist for The Wild Word, and her work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Amsterdam QuarterlyMortar, MOONThe Wild WordS/tick, Literary Mama, and Eyedrum Periodically. You can find her at: irenaioannou.com.

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