Ode to the purses of yesteryear [boomerang poem]

Lost years nestle down in their corners
and hide in inreachable deeps
a crypt without stone & no mourners
Pandora on purse-strappage sleeps

has history patterns & sweeps?
have stockings more holes than we’ve darners?
are poems concealed in their heaps?
lost years nestle down in their corners


For Rachel Dacus
[riffing on her Facebook ruminations]