At noon, the handbag rests against a chair,
a small dark moon with handles, clasp, and seam;
it holds the ordinary everywhere.
A key, a coin, a letter folded there,
receipts like leaves from some forgotten dream.
At noon, the handbag rests against a chair.
It travels through the weather without care,
through crowded stores and streets that flash and gleam;
it holds the ordinary everywhere.
A mirror catches fragments of the air,
a lipstick waits beside a tangled string.
At noon, the handbag rests against a chair.
What matters most is rarely placed with care:
a photograph, a note, a child\'s old bead—
it holds the ordinary everywhere.
And when the day\'s adventures disappear,
we set it down, still carrying the day.
At noon, the handbag rests against a chair;
it holds the ordinary everywhere.