In this pliable, foldable, wearable bag
I place a semi-confident assumption
that I will be ok.
I accept its quirks as I hope it accepts mine.
In this bag, I hold snapshots of the past
and consider future plans.

For as much as this bag is meant to carry all
of my knicks and knacks,
it can’t quite contain the mass of my emotions,
the weight of my anxieties,
the expectations of my dreams.

But just when I think I can’t add anything else,
my bag magically expands—
allowing me to take up a bit more space in the world.

In this bag I’ve made a home.
In it I dump: objects, things, stuff—
those messy bits we carry around.
With this bag, I press on with life.
I may not always know
where I am headed,
but I know I’ll always have room
to tote around what I need
for each moment.

My work accompanies me,
as do my notebooks full of creative scribbles.
With my bag, I never lack for things to do.
Even while riding the train
or sitting on a park bench—
waiting for nothing, for something—
I can hold my bag.
I fidget with the smooth leather buckle,
wind my fingers again and again with the scarf.
I hug my bag close to my chest.
There’s comfort in its fullness,
in the knowledge that what lies within
will sustain my day.

Snacks, sunglasses
tumble forth if I’m not careful.
Pens and discarded candy wrappers
tangle together in a productive jumble.
My wallet within holds
lip balm and credit cards,
stamps and hair ties,
gum and tampons,
bandages and cash.
A mini bag in and of itself;
a lifeline in life’s emergencies.

My bag may appear to be
a big black hole of curious confusion,
but it actually keeps my life
neatly organized and on the move.
Hand grasping the handles,
I’m grounded and ready
for whatever may come—
well, almost.

Originally published in Objects Things Stuff—Messy Bits We Carry Around (Dark Thirty Poetry Publishing, 2025).

“In this bag” acrylic on paper. LM Beatty 2025

SDG