Coated
The red
is my favorite.
Almost didn't buy it.
My kids said
try it,
though I thought
why bother
when it won't
be mine.
This is the one
I ran my hands over
Sunday alone, felt the inner fur,
lined up the lost button
to the hidden place
near the neck.
I wet the scarlet thread
between my tongue and teeth
before pointing it firm
through the needle.
It's mine. The red. The secret fur.
The silken lining.
I'm so glad
I took it off the hanger,
let it hug
my crimson-hungry skin.
— L.L. Barkat, author of InsideOut
This poem is offered as part of our May theme: Roses
All poems, art, and photos are public domain or used by permission of author or publisher. Photo by L.L. Barkat. |
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New May Theme
The rose is for remembrance, says Angela Alaimo O'Donnell, in this poignant tribute. |
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