My Life My Handbag

Tired, confused, lost

I look at my handbag-like life.

Externally neat, predictable, socially acceptable.

Teacher, lover, daughter, sister, nice leather pockets either side.

Inside

the lie is seen.

Inside 

a mix master mash of ideas and wants and paper clips and imaginings and timetables and lipsticks and limits and priorities and dockets and responsibilities and expectations and a tattered, crushed, month-old shopping list.

A temple-tightening unblending blend.

An eye-widening combination of reds and purples.

I close it

shaken.

I contemplate emptying and sorting

stockpiling and organizing

Ah, but

the time, the energy…

Before I go to bed tonight

I’ll dump today in;

Tomorrow I’ll clean it out.