On Writing

Poem 272 – Dress


I fall asleep thinking about what to wear
consider the weather the hair on my legs
the size of my belly the polish on my toes – peeling

In my dreams I’m in space with Jake Gyllenhaal
& none of these things matter when our space
car explodes

I wake by the phone clock chime – startled
achy a bit cold & the dog scoots close
I hold her paw for comfort

It’s the green dress – fleecy soft
button-down with a floppy belt
jewellery accoutrements slipped
on wrists neck lobes red lipstick
for the zoom call at ten
bare legs crossed under a desk

I’d call the colour deep moss
I’d call the style vintage office

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