Pack a trunk
you're really going somewhere
and not coming back any time soon,
shifting house, shifting nation even
or of course, you could be going nowhere,
stashing no-longer-necessaries in the attic.
No rolly trolleys, trunks co-existed
with flat-bottomed metal rubbish bins,
both capable of absorbing
the roughest of treatments
requiring finger clutching
and sustained arm hefting.
With their metal handles and flick latches,
trunks were chunky rectangular cuboids,
lockable, portable, sit-on-able,
easily stackable and re-usable.
Trunks could be labelled, ticketed,
even compartmentalised.
Store suits, shirts, socks, shoes,
swimming trunks, boxing trunks,
all manner of trousers,
truncated or not.
Trunks heave with history,
hope and possibilities of movement.
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