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?
a true story...once upon a time when on the edge of edges,
I opened it and dealt with every one of its contents,
I felt relieved, and was ready to re-live
in another shape unknown