Saturday, May 2, 2015


In the suitcase she leaves
unimportant items, a stone from the house she lived
a bottle of holy water, for the danger unassumingly
arriving by carriages and wagons
she throws aside little clippings of the men she loved
with their features, dumps them in a plastic bag
how insignificant they seem
now she's on a different piece of land, far
from the days dunked in lonesomeness
graced by the whiskey and coke, to assure sweetness

why wonder, why leave the smallest things
between the zips of  a suitcase, she knowingly
approves of removing last ties to tasteless soil
would spare her the thought  of looking for the northern compass
scary, it is to find a place
that grips us by our feet

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