One hour to pack all that I own in five suitcases.
Their leather peels like sun-burned skin to the touch. I am
away from home and yet my clothes, my shoes,
my books, the items I carry for luck, the pictures
of people I love are all at my side. What is
there to keep? What to let go? I need to decide,
when I find my room. It’s on the ninth floor of this big
hotel, or is it a dorm? There’s only one old elevator
and it does not want to work. The stairs are blocked here
and there by mountains of toys and by chains. I bend and I crawl
and I jump, my legs spaghettis, my heart leaps
out of my throat. I’m finally here, but where’re the keys
to open the door? The clock will not stop its endless tick tock.
No way I can pack in less than an hour or carry five cases
alone down the stairs. Worst of all, I have
nowhere to go, no place to call home.