the cave of my mother's purse,
the big one
that she strapped
around her shoulder
when she went
anywhere.
it was a treasure trove of candy and gum,
cigarettes,
jewelry,
a small photo album
of family
and friends.
matches
and crackers.
bills to be paid.
pens, and a notebook.
rosary beads from her first
communion.
tissues and rubber bands.
her wedding rings.
i remember how she cried
as she sat
on the bench after
the thief ripped it away
from her,
dragging her across the ground
as she screamed
for help.
as a boy of ten,
i remember her face, sad
and pale,
frightened.
she never in her life
hurt anyone.
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