Bags of Nothing

I’ve been making bags

Weaving threads into the space around

Space

Containers made of holes

Describing the negative space

By delineating what it isn’t

I imagine a liner will be required

To make it useful

Some way to hold in all the small things

Before they fall

Out

The thrift store for craft supplies

Picked over, sparse

The yarn shelves bare

Except for all this

Caution orange

Pale and bright, lumpy and smooth

No one fucks with the orange ones

It’s a funny color

Orange

It’s a funny word

It’s not quite red

Not bold or sexy

It is caution

Traffic cone orange

Safety orange

I’m blending it with greens and blacks

And pale baby aspirin orange

It says Halloween I guess

But not to me

Candy corn to some

The stripes contrasting

To me it says take care

Move with caution

Beep beep

It says

Don’t look away

Try to contain it

Inside all these tiny perforations

Hide it in plain sight

Take time to recover

Cover

Lining insides with something smooth

Something that can help keep it

All inside

Pencils, balls of yarn

The big stuff will stay

As the little things sift through

Falling out of the gaps

Where air stays

Still

Passing the invisible

Returning to earth

There’s no way to carry them

Yet

Awkward strapless state

Not yet ready for its intended use

Half done

Like a child playing at

Adult games

Sitting halfway between

Innocence and justice

Waiting for the right time

To complete the set

Toying with creation

Tying small knots

In the air

Calling it

Better than nothing

I take what’s left behind

Weave it into usefulness

Somehow

As beautiful as it can

As sturdy as cobwebs

In the wind