stitched by hand,
zippers and buckles,
this item is unique

no matter its origin–
a camel’s back (as you insist)
or the skin of a goat
as the market vendor declared,
it is a thing of beauty,
both in price and worth

i have told you the story
(how it burdens our hearts)
our money laid down for dreams,
some set aside for a moment of gratitude,
of generosity and love

how it hurts to hear
the reality of that purse,
as ungratefully carried
as her coat on that cold, cold night,
where i walked her to the car,
put her purse on her shoulder,
and made warmth where there was none

i cannot bear to think
how precious those dollars were,
the special trip with my mother,
all lost on another drunken night,
washed away with every token
of friendship tucked inside
the zippers and buckles of soft leather

you cannot tell me now
that this deal i have come across
is of no value

it is worth more to me than
the skin off a camel’s back

as soft as Morocco can provide,
lightweight and useful,
my first new purse in fifteen years,
it is my dream materialized,
lost friends forgiven for a new day,
zippers and buckles for every last
desire i have yet to fulfill