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  • Writer's pictureJerri Lynn Sparks

A Hole In The Lining

There’s a hole in the lining of my mother’s purse - frayed felt and ripped ruche a secret in the silk The gold has faded and the strap is broken so that to anyone passing by this coffer is a lost cause And like many things in life I barely fit in - fingers, ideas and dreams too much for narrowly defined spaces There was that time I said no to God stamped my little foot in defiance and dared whatever devil dreamt up by fearful friends and family to take a swipe at my smoldering soul and see how much was left when my spikes and my sparks showed themselves to wraiths and the unimaginative It seems at times I shred as much as I’m shredded torn down to the bare bones of body and bravery feeling around frantically in the dark for the real treasure in life And I’ve found convenient coins and crafty cons gathered bits of silk and bits of sulk tattered men with tattered stories and notes to never go there again And in between lost buttons and lost boys way behind discarded mints, frazzled fuzz and the detritus of time I finally found Truth: There is a hole in everything - little children know this - but we grow up and forget and the secret is remembering



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