– for Cecilia


Sentinel in my closet with black parted lips,

a siren with self-repairing teeth,

beckoning me to fill her with my life again.

She’s got a taste for rough flights

over continents and oceans,

the tango down jetways.


Her wheels toughened on LA sidewalks,

New York stairs and London lifts.

This passionate suitcase wants nothing more

than to go back to Paris,

bump along cracked pavement,

soak up language, unzip desire.


To purge my black coat,

the one I wore at Place Vendôme,

the night I fell out the door on my way to you.

Photo by Alexa LaSpisa