Her bag was heavy with glasses she’d taken
From pubs, textbooks for astronomy left
On the blue felt bus seat, tarnished spoons
She planned to bend into bracelets and rings.
A hand knit purple scarf, matted as a stray cat.
Three matchbooks. A small stone.
Her bag was unraveling, breaking,
So much did she burn to rescue something.
Hannah, god, your poems are like these deep releases of breath for me...gorgeous!
ReplyDeleteP.S--I think the bag should contain an old, worn domino. Don't know why.
Whoops, don't know why my name and blog came out weird there...anyhoo...that would be Sarah from www.huevoslamexicana.com. Or Sarah from the days of driving aimlessly around Goodale Park.
ReplyDeleteOh, and this is Meg--formerly of 1055 Glendale. Found your blog from Sarita's...
ReplyDeleteIt is truly lush! Something fantastic to read. Thank you, thank you!
Damn you are good. I just can feel the weight of the glasses in her purse. I just know that they are in there.
ReplyDeleteHer bag was heavy with glasses she’d taken
ReplyDeleteFrom pubs, textbooks for astronomy left
On the blue felt bus seat, tarnished spoons
She planned to bend into bracelets and rings.
this one is going to stay with me. it's wonderful.