My clothes are wearing me.

Trying me on, shrugging me off.

I don’t fit right – although the mirror is kinder than the mind.

Who are these clothes, with their demands and attention-seeking pin-tucks?

The synthetic sparkle sloughs my skin, glamorous sandpaper.

The Mexican dress makes me all the more gringa.

I have woken up today and decided that polkadots are foolish.

I am wearing bathwater, I am wrapped in sweat and tea-dyed calico.

Fanciful, fantasy, frayed old jeans. Break off this salt-crust.

Hand-forged, recycled, who?


2 thoughts on “peeling

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s