The black cardigan has been waiting
in my drawer with folded arms.
Its black buttons shine out at me,
round and wide as dilated pupils.
When I stick my arm into its sleeve
a little hole reveals itself
with the whiteness of my forearm.
All belongings have a life
that persists when not in use;
tucked into dressers and boxes, in storage,
our clothes atrophy and wilt.
I've had these feelings myself.
ReplyDeleteI am so glad to have found your blog through your comments. What lovely images--provocative and full of breath. I'll keep reading!
ReplyDeleteK.
this was moving.
ReplyDeleteI love how the black cardigan covers the whiteness of my forearm and I LOVE this piece.
ReplyDelete