Full of Ghosts

Bags Full of Ghosts We said we’d only take what we needed. That was before we started naming everything we used to be. He still carries the badge With the corner cracked through Polishes the plastic Like somebody might ask She kept the clipboard And the last working pen Writes names in columns Then crosses them back I kept the brass keys To an office with no door Like if I held them long enough I might be useful again We said keep moving We said travel light Then spent three days Deciding who still got a title Every strap cut deeper Every mile got long Every name we carried Started singing along Bags full of ghosts Dragging down the road We know what to leave But we don’t let go Bags full of ghosts And the sky hanging low We carry what broke us Because it used to be home Bags full of ghosts Bags full of ghosts Someone brought a resume Folded in a plastic sleeve Someone brought a brass nameplate Wrapped in a shirt The guy from the back row keeps saying “Back when I ran things” Like the syllables could still Make the children turn I kept calling myself The one who stays Staring at a leather briefcase Rotting on the floor I called it loyalty I called it love I called it anything But what it was Every pocket had a witness Every zipper had a mouth Every old version of us Kept pulling us back south Bags full of ghosts Dragging down the road We know what to leave But we don’t let go Bags full of ghosts And the sky hanging low We carry what broke us Because it used to be home Bags full of ghosts Bags full of ghosts The light ones were the worst The badge The keycard The photo ID With my face still clean The title Under my name The access code I still remembered The way the room looked up When I walked in I threw out three days of rations Just to keep the old version of me alive Don’t tell me what a body needs I know I chose wrong Bags full of ghosts Dragging down the road We know what to leave But we don’t let go Bags full of ghosts And the sky hanging low We carry what broke us Because it used to be home Bags full of ghosts Full of names We used to answer to Full of keys To rooms that don’t exist Full of weight We still call purpose Bags full of ghosts And we carry them anyway Leave it. I can’t.