The Lady Hands Me a Bag…

by joelmckerrow

The lady hands me a bag.

“I don’t need them anymore” she says.

Brand new baby clothes never worn.

I could cut the sorrow out of the moment.

Hang it unresolved upon the mantle, with all the other things that are lost to us.

I hug her instead. Try to hold the pieces together.

The bag slips from my fingers,

I have never held anything so heavy.

Version 2

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