Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2018  Vol. 17 No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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Carry On

I roll my socks into the case. I roll my pants. There is a place for everything. I have seven desires and I roll them separately, tucking them into corners where I can. I am going on a trip. There will be trees and strange music. I leave room in the case to bring things back. There is one thing I put in the case that nobody knows about. It is the thing that will make me change. I have never removed it, but it’s there. It’s not made of fabric so it’s hard to roll. When I return I will have left something behind. I will tell you of the people sleeping on the sidewalk, the woman who forced a sign on me. Hungry it said, and I knew what she wanted. She knew that everyone brings the thing to her city, the thing they never take out of their case. When I’m away from you I’m never sure where I am.

I left something behind. A sign, strange music.
Nobody knows about the city, separately sleeping.
Everyone brings room. Everyone is removed, not made of you.  

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