a suitcase, filled with earl grey,
raspberry rose farmers market dark chocolate,
ginger cordial, a recommendation of my fathers,
cretan cookbooks, and a hand carved wooden cat.
i pack overpriced magic creams, potions, powders, glitter
and make a little room for hope, too
gathered like fine dust
to fill the spaces between things.
take a deep breath,
and fly west.
my plane takes an unusual route,
across the atlantic
pushed a little further north by the gathering force of another hurricane.
i wear an embroidered silk shirt
and though swamped in my favourite cardigan
i still shiver.