Choosing New Clothes
I have this idea
of wearing a tree.
Running my arms up
through branch sleeves
letting leaves slither over my torso--
a shirt of fragrant
forgetfulness, unembarrassed
by the peepholes
light weaves
and wind whispers through,
the shedding
of threads to weather.
I’ve long been clad in cement artifice,
city-shaped coat drawn tight
against violence,
controlled and silent,
sharp and hard.
It keeps out the cold
only by being a better example.
I choose new clothes, to wear
a forest in my hair,
step into mossy slippers,
wrap a rainbow
around my neck.
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