Laura Cherry



What I Will Wear

A mantle of courtyard light and a cloak
of greenish leaves. Cologne of spring mud
and horse droppings. A string of shells
from where we walked and wondered
if it was too strange, then kept walking.
Feather of pelican, feather of gull. Sand
to blow in your eyes before I kiss you.
My hair in waves. What shall my dress be?
Foam blood otter sky grass macadam wind.
A dress for mercy or grace, not innocence.
The shift I wore when we advanced
beneath the cathedral ribbons, with a veil
of fog for the moments we need to blur.
A borrowed optimism, flowers of glass.
Your gaze on me like something to hold.


Photo Credit: Staff