Pockets
Are generally over or around
Erogenous zones, they seem to dive
In the direction of those
Dark places, and indeed
It is their nature to be dark
Themselves, keeping a kind
Of thieves’ kitchen for the things
Sequestered from the world
For long or little while,
The keys, the handkerchiefs,
The sad and vagrant little coins
That are really only passing through.
For all they locate close to lust,
No pocket ever sees another;
There is in fact a certain sadness
To pockets, going in their lonesome ways
And snuffling up their sifting storms
Of dust, tobacco bits and lint.
A pocket with a hole in it
Drops out; from shame, is that, or pride?
What is a pocket but a hole?
–Howard Nemerov
I needed to read something light-spirited and this suited me just fine. Besides I’ve always considered pockets to be one of the better attire-related inventions.
I love this little poem. I feel terrible when I am wearing an outfit without a pocket. Naked even.
And a pocket with a hole is a total betrayal.
QS, I’m always pleased when we agree on poetry. I value your opinion highly.