Poetry · Writing

Moving Day

We all- carry luggage across every street we cross

in conversations with each person we meet

can’t see it under your fancy microscope

out of view from your telescope

it’s not a star shining bright

or a molecule deep inside

it’s our outdated calendars.

I see how heavy your bags are, heavier than the next

and I love you more than the next

so I’ll carry the weight

just to soften yours

you say

it’s not my responsibility

this is my burden to bury

the shovel was handed to me by my weaknesses

shouted to dig and dig and bury my former self

with this forty pound lug next to the old me

shriveled and shaken and not ready to exit

but for me to exist

it can’t.

I helped an older lady unload her car

full of boxes with labels on the side

she was saying her grandson was late

but will be here shortly

and that she was grateful

she tried to give me money

but I couldn’t take it-

at first.

You can’t see it

but my luggage is hidden-

on an unmarked street corner

with an old family blanket covering it,

was evicted the other day

and I want to move in with you

share plates and stories and towels

bury our faces in noodles and cheap wine

this luggage isn’t heavy, when carried by two

those flights of stairs

aren’t so scary

no need to fret extra scuff marks and falling items

can just move in

right into my heart.

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