A suitcase is just a suitcase,
a metaphor professor preached
in college. Though, as a poet,
I make my life more difficult,
trying to weave what meaning
tatters fabric, seeing in it a cat
we met one night. We rubbed
his soft body before finding
blood beneath the mewling,
and having just adopted,
we chose to lift our hands
and continue walking, vicious
in our trust that we discarded
the proper mercy.

(originally published in Gingerbread Ritual Literary Journal, Winter 2022)