Ode to My Purse

The three French handbags came 
with lifetime warranties. Clasping 
heavy straps, I cinch them saddle-tight 
against the grasping world. 
Dark wells, they incubate details, 
stash my days in hidden rooms. 
My black postman’s case clacks 
clock-neat on thigh, ticking tasks. 
Weekends I sling a red pouch that eats 
torn tickets and topless lipsticks. Keys 
to many locks eel through my caramel creel. 
Open Purse, I say: swallow phone, glasses, cash. 
Bring home to me, magician’s hat. I chant, 
lovely Coach-crafted clutch, catch! You
soft maw, yawn to gorge and stow 
my emblems. Stretch and hold the zoo 
of me, the proof, spoil and tool. 

© Rachel Dacus

from Femme au chapeau, David Robert Books, 2005