Translator for Texture
“My wardrobe is full of things”
Soft as cotton
Woven in a web of polyester
My wardrobe is full of things
I can almost taste
But never quite wear.
Like fabric grated
Along my tongue
This isn’t a meal
To savour.
I’m just a translator
For texture.
Every label
Leaves material behind
As I claw away
At threads gone by.
Sandpaper sleeves
Bottoms like nettles
My mouth is moving
To an uncomfortable rhythm
Nothing will ever be
As pure
As cotton
Promises to be.
A Final Thought
Enjoy the flavour of what you’re wearing
Just this morning I was cursing my socks for being polyester and keeping my feet unnecessarily hot. Enjoyable verse as always.
Beautiful work as always.