Keeping the Rabbit Warm
I'm three, maybe four, sharing the seat of a shopping cart
with a black patent-leather handbag. It has a shiny gold clasp
and a loop at the top through which Nana slides
her white-gloved hand, the purse balancing on her forearm,
while she scoops me up with the other. She offers me a Lifesaver
peels the silver wrapper to reveal the coveted red one.
I watch her extract a myriad of objects from this purse,
collapsible cup, coral lipstick, pancake-powder smudged compact.
It's like watching a magician. I keep trying to peek inside
for the hidden white rabbit. Perhaps she keeps a cape in there too,
reversible with red satin. When she isn't putting on her show,
I believe it keeps the rabbit safe and warm.