די ירושה

The suitcase no one packs
lives in the back of the closet
in a shroud of wedding boots and radio sweaters,
its hinges glued with labels from razed hotels.
It holds textiles, tax stamps,
a great-great-grandmother’s long shadow,
the name of the uncle who worked the tobacconist’s shop.
It holds recipes for sorrel and sour cherries.
It holds tefillin, welded iron, photography.
History drops a hot potato in your hands,
tells you to walk uphill with it, both ways.
I see the suitcase sometimes, battered, impenetrable.
When the time comes to travel,
it will not leave me behind.

Sonya Taaffe

Sonya Taaffe’s short fiction and poetry can be found most recently in the collection Ghost Signs (Aqueduct Press) and in the anthologies GlitterShip Year One, Transcendent 2: The Year’s Best Transgender Speculative Fiction, and An Alphabet of Embers: An Anthology of Unclassifiables. She lives in Somerville with her husband and two cats and once named a Kuiper belt object.

Photo Credit: Rob Noyes

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment. You can register here.