dresses in the closet
I don’t know why I counted them
seven survivors
worthy desirable
at least
in so much
as can be revealed in public places
in a
not denied entry
kind of way.
: that would pass
though.
given enough time,
even the carefully edited collection loses its relevance
you are the compendium of all of our hopes and dreams
and also the what we have to put before we go outside. along with our faces and expectations
I taste the cloth between my fingers
and categorize each by its texture
a memory imprinted on my fingertips
signaling for recall
to unfurl and fill in the rest.
like a fern frond
slowly
That one was bought in a shop on a corner of a street in Barcelona.
And that one I wore to lunch of tapas in Oxford.
Never mind that I have never been to either place. I could have,
in that dress.
It was a good time.
