Sunday, 5 February 2012

Sunday Poem

LA CACHE CLOSE-OUT SALE, QUEEN STREET

This is the sweater I bought the day you
put your hand on my thigh. Your hand
on my thigh meant: maybe. If you weren't
driving home to someone else.

$119 marked down to 15—a steal.
All sales final. The saleslady
cut the tags so that I could wear it home.
It was cold. I was wearing a thin shirt.

It's summer now. I've had no call to wear this
sweater, no reason to think of your hand
on my thigh. Not that I regret it. It's a nice
sweater. It was a good buy.

From Cardiogram (Baseline, 2011) by Danielle Devereaux.

2 comments:

PATRICK WHITE said...

Simple, disarming and poignant poem.
Well done.

Alice Zorn said...

This makes me smile, albeit sadly.