Sally,
This is so evocative, so heart-wrenchingly real, that I hope you will
forgive me reformatting it somewhat. I felt that a bit of editing might free
the sculpture.
Blessings
Terri )O(
My old night-dress
I found it at the bottom of the drawer,
a faint smell of perfume still lingered.
I was young then and he was alive,
his naked body next to me,
with only thin cotton to separate us.
There are cells of him still here,
hidden in the folds, tiny atoms, floating.
I can breathe him in, hear the soft snore
he made when he lay on his back,
feel the warmth of his breath when his lips pressed my cheek.
I made love in this shift, birthed in it.
There are tears embedded in this fabric
blood; breast milk and a baby's sigh.
This old night-dress is bleached almost white with washing,
the flower pattern faded. I should throw it away
or rip it up for dusters.
But I won't do that. I will wear it
like a wedding dress, go to bed alone.
-----Original Message-----
From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf
Of Sally James
Sent: 29 August 2006 23:55
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: new sub My old nightdress
My old night-dress
I found it at the bottom of the drawer
a faint smell of perfume still lingered
brought back memories.
I was young then and he was
alive, blood throbbed
through our veins, his body naked,
lay next to me, with only thin cotton
to separated us.
There will be cells of him still here,
hidden in the folds, tiny atoms, floating.
I can breathe him in, almost feel him beside
me, hear the soft snore he made
when he lay on his back, feel the warmth
of his breath when his lips pressed my cheek.
I made love in this shift, birthed in it.
There are tears embedded in this fabric
blood; breast milk and a baby's sigh.
This is a very old night-dress, it is bleached
almost white with washing.
The flower pattern is very faded. I should throw
it away really or rip it up for dusters.
But I won't do that; instead I will wear it like
a wedding dress, go to bed alone.
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