DEATH’S SUITCASE<\/p>\n
As the years pass, as I ride this train, watching
\ndays and weeks go by outside the window
\n(everything the same in here, unchanging,
\nonly a little shaky from time to time),
\nI begin to feel that I am carrying
\nDeath’s suitcase.<\/p>\n
This bag of flesh, blood and bone, containing
\nthe news and means of my destruction, goes
\nwith me everywhere, unassuming, inevitable.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I set it down and walk away from it,
\nand there it sits alone on the platform, but only
\ntemporarily. No one ever picks it up. Of course
\nI always go back for it, and then I keep it by me,
\nnext to me in the empty seat, near at hand in the
\ndining car, always closed.<\/p>\n
Strangers make conversation, and no one asks
\nabout Death’s suitcase. No one ever says, “Well,
\nwhat’s in the suitcase?” And I never bring it up.<\/p>\n
It bears its tags and patches, its scuffs and scars
\nto show where it has been, and it grows stiff
\nwith wear, and more dignified. I would not be
\nwithout it now, for love nor money.
\nYou will not catch me
\nleaving it behind.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Jane Elder Wulff<\/a> was born in Florida and lived in the South until age ten, when her family moved to Pullman, Washington. She attended Antioch College, received a B.A. in English from Washington State University, and came to Vancouver, Washington in 1967 with an M.A. in English and Creative Writing (the first such combined degree offered by WSU) to teach English at Clark College. From 1988 to 2012 she worked full time as a freelance writer for clients and regional publications to support her own work in fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. Currently she is concentrating on her own work.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" DEATH’S SUITCASE As the years pass, as I ride this train, watching days and weeks go by outside the window (everything the same in here, unchanging, only a little shaky from time to time), I begin to feel that I … Continue reading