Tagged: dress

the end of october

the end of october
dresses up for no
one in particular,
parades down
main street
till november

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: dresses

between the clock and

soon, spring

soon, spring
will shake the winter
out of the city, make
sure all of the
dresses are ironed
for the full display

indulgence is

indulgence is
into a spring
that has been
to be aired out –
with just over
three weeks
left to go

every morning ritual

every morning ritual
requires a little
give and take –
one more minute
in the shower,
one less spoon
of honey, fifteen
more seconds
on the phone, two
less bites of
fruit, one change
of shirt, three
less tugs on
the hair



in dimly lit spaces, the piano
is a train whistling unevenly
across a sloping stage blowing

up, up, and up the crinkling
wings of beethoven
and bartók – the only two
choices left
within these numb
fingers when drowning
in an endless pit of freshly
polished apples. in dimly
lit spaces, the piano is a train
whistling is a wound bleeding
is a cast iron radiator tiptoeing
nearest the asylum of
a north-facing brick wall

with her rusty skirt grazing
at minor third intervals
across all that city snow

the closer to the deceased
the more death becomes
an inconvenience – that is,
which train am i taking?
does my suit still fit? when
is the funeral? where
are my black dress shoes? who
hasn’t been notified?

the more death becomes
an inconvenience, the less we have
to open our eyes widely
towards the emptiness that is still
a faint lingering of our
beloved who can no longer
share in these softest of
laments – who, what, when
and where – but lie
down with us each time
we press our heads against why
and catch our tongues
perpetually blistering on how