Finishing Line Press is featuring my new chapbook, TRANSPORTED, today. Read more about it at the link below.

It’s a good time to share the opening poem, which will demonstrate that the book covers more than the simple recollections of a twelve year old. I hope it intrigues you and makes you curious to read more.

Suitcases

We packed a trunk for Egypt,
following lists of “things you can’t
easily get there,” had it shipped direct,
carried our clothes with us
in thin rectangular suitcases.

Years earlier the British packed trunks
to set up residence in Egypt,
displacing the French.  Only a travelling
salesman would carry his own suitcase.

Now every case has wheels,
an expectation of smooth surfaces.

The trunk, shipped home full
of souvenirs—inlaid plates, foot
cushions to be stuffed, kohl bottles—
sits in my bedroom, holding remnants
of childhood, my wedding dress, my
children’s art. 

Two ceramic geese sit on the green cloth
which covers it like a very low coffee table.
It has shrunk.

Wheeled cases wait in the closet.