Girl With A Suitcase
Girl with a suitcase.
Packing up, losses cut.
Stepping out and striking
fast. Last gasps and chances
grasped. Past chucked
in a bin bag
out the back.
Ditched.
Girl with a suitcase.
Not much inside.
Not much to want.
Not much to take care of
or fold or smooth over.
Everything’s already
crumpled, a bit wrecked
and neglected.
Just shove it in
any old how.
Zip it shut and move
on, move out, move
quick.
Girl with a suitcase
stands on the porch,
edges the door shut.
Trainers skim, almost tripping
on the icy steps in the dark.
Pulls the case, light
almost weightless,
almost nothing
and everything
she owns
down to the cracked pavement,
grabs the handle and runs.
