The Details Are Up

Jet black shiny purse with an
Easter green Calvin Klein
soft leather wallet hiding within-
it belonged to my mother:
matched her moving initials.

My own glossy dark red nails mirror
her honorary blood living through me:
as I unzip, with fingers not yet wrinkled,
pockets to hold my cards,
as I watch my hands move,
The part of her that still remains
living, it’s
a daughter or a duchess-
the details are up for discussion.

Great teachers lead me toward the future,
away from aches of grief,
aches ancient in their normalcy.
But muscle memory reminds me
to drag my past along,
in my glistening black vinyl purse.

I’m the wisp
of wishes, who, like envy,
embody a bubbly hopeful twenty-something
who carries an budget-raven bag
with economical silver hardware.
But a proper silky leather wallet
bearing my mother’s code
hides within:
nuzzled alongside tissues and paper scraps-
calls gently to my ancestor’s swan songs.

And I stalk forward armored with my accessories-
The battle gear of mother’s and daughters,
to show the world who you are,
without having to fully re-live the past.
I accessorize my turn with stories
dripping in background details.