12 Dresses by Laura Kelsey - HTML preview

with thanks to M.H. for your care and support

 

dress1

 

a summer’s day

and she’s swaying greyscale

in the barn

focusing the mind

knowing the magic will happen

she’s been there before

so she sucks and she sucks

thumbs or thoughts

to push them to the front

don’t ask if it’s there

memories jostle for attention

before the breakthrough

breeze tickles the bottom hem

over the hairy, swollen ankles

of final farewells gone wrong

a summer’s day

a child held back in the hay

with a shaking head

 

dress2

 

“but just look at the fabric”

at the shop before

Yale vultures shot over our heads

in a sharp arrow

now spiders suck

mayfly cocktails around me

open the window for them

but they choose the web

it came from St. John’s Street

the day that Anna moved

vivid red with Aztec eyes

unworn and antique

11 giant birds riding the updraft

naked pink heads

scouting for carcasses

along the Fraser, the valley

 

dress3

 

his stare made me cringe and his words made me gag

“nipples - I can see your nipples”

a baggy dress to hide a bad diet

an attempt to blend not to attract

“you look like a goddess in flowing blue”

as I stood on the street, either side my large dog leashed

a day on the wharf with an ex-lover who is trying to take me home

posing pretty for the camera because I know I won’t go

false passion on a stage of wood

the gaps in the boards too slim for your ego

so it stays and it bows

to anything that will notice it

 

dress4

 

toenail polish to match the dress

the package was returned, torn open

too much in the envelope undeclared

he had said the colour reminded him of me

every stoplight, every sunset

my hand on his shoulder

he was in California for the summer

and I was eager, waiting

a naive lover not over 16

always returning

the colour, unblemised

I’m smiling in the sun on the lawn

my feet are flexed toward the camera

a toothless smirk reflects the light

while you are having sex on the beach

 

dress5

 

what is clean?

scrub all you want but have you changed the atoms

the essence of a moment imprinted on a virgin cloak

black with hate or wet with tears?

here’s the wine, the constant stain

seeping into the deepest recess of flesh

and nudging it longfully with its hips

knowing no matter what it will remain

so what is the point?

try as hard as you can but have you made progress

a pointless monkey in a hologram

black with hate or wet with tears?

here’s your crime, your shocking sin

that won’t let you start over again

begging on its knees to let it in

let your friends die because you don’t think you can handle it?

 

dress6

 

how many times has the kimono come up?

always in water, red shades

flowing waves and fabric toward the sea

a gift from a suitor, with an invitation to Japan

“never work again and have my babies”

then it returned, in the closet, in photos

the bow migrating around the house

sandals still wrapped in plastic

not worn in seriousness, in love

the kimono drowned that day

 

dress7

 

photos in the ivy

and now the memory defines me

when it’s wine-coloured and available

the stockings fit right in

Angel humoured the experience

before we parted ways

the boots were from a stripper

smooth vinyl glaring from beneath the strangled oak

 

dress8

 

you’ve been gone a while

a mayfly resigned to a life behind glass

trapped inside, diving into a web

skipping the starving hours

to accept a quick suspended death

while I roll out my flesh, making your shape with a cookie cutter

leaves plump and dry

in the years past a poem

denial drinks a naughty scorn

too late

as you decide whether to betray your cards or hold them

***

totally relaxed I watch the canyon

ebb and flow with the wind and the wine

May 26, just after the full moon

heifers enjoying the spring until their babies are taken away

I look for a point to this project

and see this dress without a form

a remedy to what has been

an offering to amend and be reborn

 

dress9

 

“who gives a fuck about Alfred Sung?

a tag doesn’t buy you friends”

an alterior motive that left a sour taste on all sides

vanity, vengeance and vanquished confidence

influenced the scene, bathtub next to the barn

technology stepping into relationships

like a bad drink on a good night

polka dots shared on the lawn

the Cariboo had us

our boredom, bullied

each other until betrayal had pushed us apart

bras on the internet, stalkers in the trees

there may never be apologies

but hopefully we’ve all moved on

 

dress10

 

the woman I’ve always wanted to be

wearing a plain black dress every day

eating a simple meal

strong above temptation

open only to the arts

giving back as much as possible

while conjuring a positive life

trusting each step to reach its kind destination

as I absorb the present moon

without reaching for the next

gagging on reality

a sated gullet dreaming peace

living to create and offer aid

unaware of judgement, anger or impatience

I strive for a life of honest meaning

 

dress11

 

maybe it’s about wine

nights alone transfixed on work

satisfaction

men offering you gems

a chance between the high notes

satisfaction

every night at the theatre

watch the show-within-a-show

satisfaction

freedom of expression

the korkoro dancer

satisfaction

giant chimes hanging from the rafters

colours beyond our perception

satisfaction

other souls to influence your design

pain aplenty to feed the guilt clings to your bones

satisfaction

 

dress12

 

supposedly I emerged from the tent

taking the breath away before going underground

the ceremony was loud, huffing

berries and bark before vomiting in buckets

later it fell

to the earth before a bath of cedar and vision

enduring the wood’s ether

or curses before dancing in the hotroom

***

sometimes with a shawl

the dress vibrates a copper light

before we know

what’s next

 

laura kelsey is a former newspaper editor; and now a freelance

writer, photographer and performer from vancouver british columbia.

her poems have appeared in the new chief tongue,

the carnegie and stew magazine.