Buttons and Bows (Poetry)

So, take the silver cushion of my life
and punch it full of holes —
unstuff the coloured dust of years
and shake it free — alone God knows
it never was as comfortable or how
its plumpness promised it would be —
the manufactured cloud a shiny fake that failed
to make a show and soften years for me.

Unzip the fancy dress — the foolish armour
I have worn
the fabric faded — rusted through
those brassy buttons missing or undone.
Take off my blondie wig — the false head hair
unloop blue lace and ribbons fashioned into bows
remove all trinkets, chains and gilded charms —
the cuff and collar nonsenses of style
I once imagined perfect —
forget all those.

I’ll sit here naked on a bare brick floor
and contemplate the fripperies and fuss
of too much fabric —
the woven overload I have possessed
and valued for its covering disguise
now stripped away — unclothed
my starkness wise — the threads of understanding
a thin string
that winds a colour —flecks the dreaming eyes
and shadows wrap designs on fifty nine
grey winters’worth of nothing but skin.