The Whys of My Briefcase

don't know where you keep yours,
mine, immediately resigned,
to my black briefcase

the bills I cannot pay,
the notices that I knew
would unfailingly come some day,
the letters to my children,
signed, sealed but never to be
delivered till much later, maybe,
by someone else's hand

and so,
I carry my briefcase
every day,
an appendage human,
opens only for additions,
never any subtractions,
many reminders included,
for letters previous posted, sent,
and stamped~marked
past, way past, overdue

the authorities demand satisfaction,
at the very least they want my
whereabouts

the doctors asks,
what's wrong,
you never filled that essential
prescription~poem I wrote for you,
that was even writ legible
so you could not deny its
existing urgency

that **** briefcase is so heavy,
tempted to chuck it into the Peconic,
but it was a loving gift from her,
not realizing that I carried no case,
just so burdens invisible
were imagined lighter, or extinct,
but easily ignored

where do you keep yours?

the forget~me~knots that you
don't want but can't crush
legally or courageously

when they open that unhappy pandora,
they will wonder why nothing was e'er said,
but they won't ask twice, but understand,
for who among us
does not have a black briefcase?