Friday, February 24, 2017

The Suitcase (forthcoming in Waves, an anthology by A Room of Her Own Foundation)

1.
Lifting the lid, she said,
"Bonbons for my girls";
ghosts in her German accent
floating about.
"Dollhouse table," my sister declared.
"A sofa, and this chair."
Collecting the wrapping paper,
inhaling flowery perfume, I imagined
Granny's house in London.

2.
The drifting dessert sand, Mother removes
from her gravestone once a year.
I pull out the suitcase waiting
in the boidem, dust it off.
My diary packed, small can-openers,
some scarves—waving good-bye,
I moved to another country.

3.
On snowy days, I look to the East—
my hair as grey as Granny's
on her visits long ago—and think
of the Desert and the Forty Years,
asking, Where is Home?

~~~~~~~~~

More about Waves anthology - http://aroomofherownfoundation.org/waves/waves-anthology