The Poet's New Clothes

Inside my closet, I reminisce.

That dress made by my hand under my mother's guidance,
this suit carefully and skillfully built to last
and last and last.
Some unworn (those most fantastic).
Graduations, funerals and a wedding.
Souvenirs

of hims and hers and thises and thats
of losses and prizes,
triumphs and

once or twice I have stood there to cry.

It's burgeoning now.
Clothes on the floor and stuffed in every cranny.
Over-burdened shelves collapse under their onerous load.
I keep bringing them in by the load,
clothes without loads yet,
madly trying to refresh myself
from the outside in.

Thank you so much for reading my work. I appreciate you all very much.

All images are my own unless otherwise stated.
This photo is of a piece by the inestimable Lydia Viscardi

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