August 1, 2017

Dead Man's Silk



In the consignment store

I look for silk shirts,

top brands, dark colors,

oh so easy on the skin.

In the mirror,

I imagine the previous

owner, before he

slipped into bed,

and never managed

to get out again.

Unlike him,

the color hasn't faded,

label still jumping

off the black fabric,

full of life,

easily worth more than

twice the price.

Perhaps I'll wear it

with a calmer face.

Many shirts are destined

to never leave the closet,

until finally given a second chance,

paid for and matched

with second-hand pants.