Wanting Is

Wanting is

Yearning to fill a void with 

Something

That is

Missing 

From it’s place of 

Origin

We forget where we 

Belong 

Where we come from 

Is not always safe 

Here 

You have to find 

Something

That will protect 

You

Suitcase Childhood

I know the cadence of many-a-shore,

Particular light and coolness of shadow.

Airports, shopping malls, alleyways. 

All in haste, all the same.

In hotel rooms, news on the television 

Describing the weather of the region.

It’s entertaining because it’s not mine.

“Waking up to some frost and fog.”

Trauma of birth, 

Removal from safe oblivion.

Dad smells like Vaseline, 

Mom smells like Nivea Cream. 

Two parts of one pulverized whole.
Dormant memories blossoming in my poetry.

My childhood in a suitcase.