Her blouse is livid with loose ends of string
intertwined like feasting garden-worms.
That pompous scuffed tortoise-shell button
swinging from a sagging polyester lapel.
That feathered coffee stain from brunch, 1975
lazily hovering on her crooked collar.
The sluggish swish of tiny beige threads
tangled with dryer-lint and appliqué.
The scratch of dry skin and tight sleeves,
her nails dancing in profound pockets.
It talks when she talks,
it says what she doesn’t.
About the Creator
Jamie Wilkinson
23 year old writer/poet from Montreal, Canada.
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By Jay Kantor7 days ago in Humor
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