The Suitcase.

Brown leather-strapped heavy as hammers

but oh! the smell.

"Books" he muttered, dark eyes shifting,

then went out in his raincoat.

Can't clean in there, ma'am.

Run upstairs hold your nose shut the door quick

Oh! the smell.

Police came. Too late. Suitcase, man, raincoat -

Gone.

But not the smell.

                          

© Sheila Rogers

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