The Suitcase
POEMUNITED STATES12
Hana
1/6/20261 min read
My father’s suitcase waits by the door.
It carries three shirts, a book, and gifts wrapped for people I have never met.
He travels often enough that goodbyes have become small.
A wave.
A reminder to text.
The click of the lock.
Still, the empty place at dinner
is larger than the suitcase.