Closure

By Alan Perry

for Kate Spade

I could never do that—
wear notions to be toted
and adorned in public
or name my own leather to rest
on someone else's shoulder.
No crossbody bags for me
or I'll lose my private place
in the express line, waiting
for debits to pile up.

Though I'm not immune
to the allure of rest.
Every day I weightlift
the quiet grief that stuffs
a briefcase I carry
from this place to the next—
not sharing its contents
with those who can't see
me drifting away.

And if I get lost
in that room with no light,
I might take blue from a scarf
and close the door—
like the snap of a purse
that can't be opened
from the inside.