Anthony Hanible

Packing My Bags

I start with the hours

Those frost bitten fragments

Lifting them carefully

As if time itself might shatter

Against my palms

The shirts come next

Bleached of memory

Their fabric stiff as winter flags

That no longer swear allegiance

To anything warm

Into the smallest pocket

I place the relics

A name drained of pulse

A key without a door

The thin metallic taste

Of a promise gone cold

The zipper closes

A single icy seam

Like drawing a blade

Across the last soft edge

Of who I was

The room does not protest

It stands in its own stillness

Walls pale as abandoned altars

Bearing witness to the quiet

Extinction of a former self

Outside the morning waits

Colorless

Indifferent

A blank frozen sigil

Offering nothing

But the possibility of shape

I lift the bags

They are light

In the way snow is light

Cold

Silent

And carrying the weight

Of everything it covers