Janet McEwan

Talking Handbags

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HANDBAG

My mother's old leather handbag
crowded with the letters she carried
all through the war. The smell
of my mother's handbag: mints
and lipstick and Coty powder.
The look of those letters, softened
and worn at the edges, opened,
read and refolded so often.
Letters from my father, which ever
since then have meant womanliness,
and love, and anguish, and war.

RUTH FAINLIGHT

( from Staying Alive,
a book of poems edited by Neil Astley)

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