Let me tell you what I brought:
Two pencils, the tips chewed
off by clutter at the bottom
of my handbag. A rambling
of notes from religion class
in a notebook losing its spine.
Downtown Brown lipstick
from the turn of the century
(not as long ago as it sounds).
Three pennies turned green
from abuse, bristles of hairbrush
flattened by a pocket edition
of Dhammapada for Dummies,
and a couple of unwrapped mints,
threatening to shatter. I am
always amazed at what
we bring with us. The things
we think important. So,
so damn important.
Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt
April 8, 2025
Author's Note: This poem was inspired by Natalie Goldberg's prompt from the Writing Down the Bones Deck. The card I picked asked readers to write about what they brought. As I was writing, I remembered Tim O'Brien's book, The Things They Carried. If you've read the book, you'll understand why I call this poem "A Nod to Tim O'Brien." O'Brien spoke at my college, back in the day. He broke down and had to leave in the middle. I wrote him a poem after and asked the department chair send it to him. I never did get an answer, but I hope he read it and derived some comfort.
