I haven't got fatter or thinner since I was twenty.
So it's not astounding that I have a plenitude
a grand chamissitude of shirts,
one dating back to 1975 (when I was 33),
all of them second-hand,
except for one my mother made for me
on her treadle-machine in the front room
of her house in Clonlee Drive, Belfast.
She used to say (with only a little irony)
that she felt as if the next shirt or blouse
she put on would be her last.
I won't live long enough to properly
enjoy all these shirts –
unless I behave like modern folk
and wear each just for a day –
and then, without a second thought
just throw it away.
(That gives me another month...)
No comments:
Post a Comment