There is a penciled poem folded and hiding
Somewhere in the bottom of
Filomena’s new designer handbag.
At least, the ghost of one.

Only, how does she find
Something that isn’t quite yet?
Or anything at all
In that cluttered
Sack of apprehension and mystery?

Beneath a tangle of dead Presidents
and a handful of tissues
For wiping Sailor’s nose,
Between eyeliner, lipgloss, and cell phone
Nestles a small jar of glittery hope.

And a tin full of powdery promise
Tucked in beside breath mints,
fear and danger,
Faith and chewing gum.
Wisdom with an applicator
sealed in a waterproof pouch.

There is a penciled poem hiding
Somewhere in the bottom of
Filomena’s new handbag.
And a passport and a ticket to...

Tomorrow