First Draft
Fabric of You
The ivory jersey dress hangs in my closet nearly forty years into this tapestry, despite the years outside the loom. The flannel of your voice is the dominant fabric, sometimes just a thread between those velvet looks, silken caresses, and cashmere kisses that haunt my waking dreams, the burlap that terrorizes me in the conscious nightmares, the great holes, the gap bound by leather cords to the wool that eventually relaxes into the cotton and linen of our separate lives: light, easy things with their own special threads, patterns and ravels. Now, as I force those leather cords through the thousand thread count sheets we blindly wove to comfort us through the darkest night, I don’t know what your next thread will be: denim? gabardine? merino? but I feel you spinning it and know it will eventually weave into the textile of my life, and I will wear that dress again.
By Harper Lewis4 months ago in Poets
