The wardrobe

Hanging clothes like lives


hanging before you the before that was


the after the ever


the eternal


wire-wing shouldered zippered tight cellophane wrapped


corpse of past


or


to the left neatly stacked layered in colour shade hue the passing stages


eras ages of you waiting to be worn relaunched reborn


or


waiting to be shed in suspended crushed creased


flat


state


waiting


waiting


for another


eye glittering night shining star another life another hope


for more


than merely mould that black-spot age-old afflicted curse


or


nibble of moth that dreaded fabric equivalent death like buzzard’s loop


too close


too close


it swoops


in dust the dust.