I have too many purses. There, now you know too much about me. Character flaw: fashion hoarding. Too many scarves, too. And strings of pearls -- that would need a whole other blog post. In celebration of flaws and how they can become houses, boats, toolkits, and other things, here is my poem. Coach Handbags should send me a freebie, don't you think?
Ode to My Purse
three French handbags came
lifetime warranties. Clasping
straps, I cinch them saddle-tight
the grasping world.
wells, they incubate details,
my days in hidden rooms.
black postman’s case clacks
on thigh, ticking tasks.
I sling a red pouch that eats
tickets and topless lipsticks. Keys
many locks eel through my caramel creel.
Purse, I say: swallow phone, glasses, cash.
home to me, magician’s hat. I chant,
Coach-crafted clutch, catch! You
maw, yawn to gorge and stow
emblems. Stretch and hold the zoo
of me, the proof, spoil and
From my book Femme au chapeau
-- first published in The Atlanta Review (Thanks, Dan Veach!)
Labels: Femme au chapeau, poem, purses