p
o
e
m
s

its warm bodice and intricate lace

tells nothing of its past

which I know

from a black and white sign

hung on an outlet rack.

“smoke damaged garments, price reduced.”

a bubbly clerk,

“from a building fire in the L.A. riots;

they smell fine.”

“much sweeter than perfume.” a value.

ravishing.

all gussied up in near-looted cloth,

worn resistance.

like donning a slab of the Berlin Wall

with frills attached.

and that is why I have written this

across the breast of your treasure.

and see within its weave

a monochrome of politics,

you, and a burning riot on your back.

You Might Also Enjoy

Il Picco

Deborah Paredez

Letter to Marina
Milan, 23 March
  You speak of il picco
by which you mean
the dead have. . .

poems

Spine Surgery

Fred Marchant

nerve-root
               cord in the tunnel
                             from mind to the. . .

poems

Further Reading

Heads Up: We recently updated our privacy policy to clarify how and why we collect personal data. By using our site, you acknowledge that you have read and understand this policy.