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Saturday, April 25, 2015

Glow the Bag

He leaves the store in the hand
of a recent widow dressed
in black with bright orange shoes
Her veil obscures very little
of the grief behind her dark glasses
It's not often a bag gets a poem
for in parts of this nation
similar items are called sacks
His name is Glow you should know
and if his poorer cousin the sack
should get the same publicity
the bag would be on her head
and the sack upon her body
Such are the wars between
the sacks and the bags
The sacks would remind you
they are usually made of paper
The bags are of oil-based plastic
For the sack a tree must die
For the bag a whatyacallapus
has decomposed deep in the earth
We can't name the sack here
because the woman only had a bag
and as we all know
bags and sacks get their names
when someone takes one home
Bag names are quite pronounceable
whereas sacks receive their name
from the sound they make
when the clerk pulls one from a shelf
As since each sack has a different sound
most humans can't make it
with their teeth tongue gums and lips
As for the widow we are confined
to earthly descriptions as she
saunters through her sequins
whispering her name to a bag
that needs to know who cradles it
in her arms soon to be en-robed
in what only a bald vicuna
will allow from a store in a bag
with the idiopathic name of Glow

Barry G. Wick

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