Mar 2, 2021
1 min read
Clothing Poem
Isn’t it strange we dress ourselves in so many skins?
Elbows lost in a rack of silk surrongs my mind starts to want some numbers. Like, how many fingertips have ever buttoned a blouse?
How many palms have ever brushed the shoulders of a suit jacket, and how many chins have lifted in the mirror at the sight of stately besuited shoulders?
