Big Black Trash Bags

Stuffed taut with everything I owned  

Hastily packed, hope caught on zippers.  

An orchestra of plastic and panting breath,  

Midnight scramble to escape the static.  

My pumpkin carriage crinkles at dawn.  

I’ve hidden years inside its bulging folds,  

Memories squeezed into trash bag sanctuaries,  

A life reduced to portable shadows.  

Each bag a chapter, ripped at corners,  

The grit of leaving stains your palms.  

Who knew departure could smell like plastic,  

Choking, stretching, desperate to contain us.  

As the sun yawns across the skyline,  

My hands ache with pulled-tight knuckles.  

And still, I drag them behind me,  

Big black trash bags, tethered to ghosts.