Black Clothes
It is the same thing that makes us each unique, and any old same thing becomes unique because of it.
She collects black clothes
they pile up, practically
indistinguishable
her drawers, black holes
her closet of shadows
a few snaps and plastic
buttons glint a shine of relief
knit, silk and cotton gape
invitations to dissolve
into the void
where anything is possible
the wardrobe suggests
darkness shrouds the body
the body of light
that will not be extinguished
by material as material
comes and goes
over the body
that comes and goes
the clothes cannot
extinguish the body
the body cannot extinguish
the spark that is more than
the parts that make
the whole life
we are undressing
and dressing to reveal
or hide the spark we are
electric folded hanging
changing on off into
ourselves
so many selves
this body wears
out
About the Creator
Jane LeCroy
Mother, teacher, performance artist, writer of poetry, prose and music. Has bands, makes records, and good trouble. Listen by looking for the bands: The Icebergs, Ohmslice, Shelter Puppy, Transmitting, on your favorite music platform.
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