sometimes she even knew in the middle it was only a dream but still felt sad as if she'd lost a dear friend

A woman who wanted to change 

dreamt the same dream every night 

 

of losing her purse: lipstick, keys, ID. 

Sometimes they were stolen, 

 

sometimes she merely forgot them. 

Every morning she'd check to see 

 

if her purse was where she'd left it—

like looking into a mirror. 

 

Sometimes she even knew in the middle 

it was only a dream but still felt sad 

 

as if she'd lost a dear friend. 

In the bottomless black hole of the purse, 

 

it seemed there was always a little more loss 

left to lose—but maybe not, 

 

which is why she'd always ask: 

What if this time it's really gone? 

 

[Elaine Equí {1953- } 'Black Bag', from Sentences and rain]