Bag


Nothing says forever like plastic.
We have walked through doors
with bags in both hands, spilling their
contents over the floor, the bed, the table,
arms stretched out pointing at
something far in the distance while
someone suggests you blow into a bag.
Take that for your model of the universe,
of one thing held inside another,
the voice of the heart in the mind of a lover.
What are you waiting for? Inhale, exhale
as if your life depended on it.
Your soul is breath and weighs 21 grammes
more than the weight of an empty bag.

 

Tim Cumming


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One Response to Bag

  1. Ruth says:

    This is perfect – just right.

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