Grateful and Greedy for More Black
a poetic ode to an all-black wardrobe
One Hundred Days of Gratitude. Twenty-One.
Everyone, please — put on your sunglasses and tighten up
the laces on your boots. Pour a pint of Guinness, let it sit, and raise a toast
to the colorless color with the most.
Here’s to the ever-growing midnight
in my closet (and my mind’s eye)
— the New York uniform I dutifully adorn
even in the sunny south.
Here’s to the illusion of dark danger
and the cool kind of bad mental health
and the ability
to write poetry
that belongs on a French shelf.
Here’s to the (somewhat) aloof way to ask for attention.
Here’s to fine art and fine wine and yes fine, pretension,
that always looks so much better dressed up in all-black.
Here’s to the one true one-color closet,
a way to take control and take something
off your plate.
Here’s to those (supposedly happy) who hate.
They don’t have to wear it anyway.
Here’s to dressing up in different black textures and driving away.
Here’s to beautiful bountiful black.
What do you say?