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in
collection, Nearly the Happy Hour, 2008,
Happenstance
Press. ISBN 978-1-905939-07-7
The going-away dress
Now it’s the only
one left in the wardrobe
slanted
sideways on the tarnished rail, looking
over
its shoulder, swinging
on
a padded sateen hanger.
Still
not out of fashion, though seasons
of
going are always changing - baby,
bridal,
through all the shades of fading
into
one colour, any colour, the only colour.
It
wears itself lightly, this dress - floating
on
butterflies, closed wings praying.
Always
the perfect fit, ready to slip
so
easy from its perch; this year, next year,
sometime.
It sighs like silk
inhaling
the dust of its own passport.
A
dress for departing on a single ticket,
with
a bag of bruised apples, half a loaf.
It
could be night. Or autumn. Or soon.
Sometimes
you can hear its half-creak,
this
side of ghostly, straining for the date
of
release; the brilliant daylight; away.
D A Prince
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