The Remedy

—Valerie Loveland

 

My former wardrobe: a clamor

of dresses wiggling

manic from their hangers.

 

They embarrassed me in public with their indecent squeaks,

melodramas, ocular-assaults.

 

Too much color is bad for the temperament.

 

I watched while a packet of black dye swished my clothes grey.

I kept the washer lid open:

a musty octopus thrashed inky in the washer.

 

Since then the clothes behave–

patterns counteracted,

flashy colors serious…studying?

 

My closet has the elegance of fashion before color film.

 

The noise quieted to only a rustling in the dark–like snoring,

or purring.

 

Poem pulled from RE:AL Volume 30.2 Fall/Winter 2005.

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