the pocket is dark,
in here lie ancient cakes, forgotten cookies,
bread rolls, birthday icing.
the never-washed linen, pouch of
memories, of years laughter love
tight around my neck,
broken tie restretched,
resewn again.
first knots made, later undone
’round your expanded middle,
sunken it carried
me in sagging pocket,
a joey licking spoons
with floured sticky sugar smiles.
and later
I adopt the ties,
and stiff with age and
ancient batter it
and falls apart
into ashes.
like you.

like all of us.

woman with grey hair walking down a street away from the camera, wearing a blue dress with white and red flowers, a red coat over one arm, and a checked apron about her waist
Image edited; source: Unsplash.
Cover image, ‘Knot’ from Unsplash.

This poem resulted from a prompt in a story workshop last year with Australian author Alice Bishop, when asked to consider a piece of clothing you love.

Do you have a piece of clothing you have loved? Perhaps something worn by someone you love? What comes to mind, and why? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

2 thoughts on “Apron

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