LBD – poem for dVerse

V-backed, slipping off a white shoulder

showing the long groove of my spine,

always adjusting it, too hot, too cold;

 

That Sixties shape in heavy lace –

he kissed me on the doorstep,

but I didn’t let him in –

I left him standing there.

It was my right.

 

A cobweb back – Morticia –

vampire – lamia – velvet –

all those dark-eyed

seducing women –

I swayed, half-dazed,

half-dancing, black widow

in my spider dress;

 

Glazed cotton, lacing up the front –

purple ribbon, leather thong,

punk Cinders in the ashes;

 

My mini-crini – wobbled as I walked

Audrey-Hepburn-ed me,

made me a chess queen,

something strange

and somehow silly

and yet beautiful;

 

Tight, scoop-neck, lace sleeves –

“well done” he said

and me wiggling, wriggling,

lipstick smeared;

 

The one I bought to hide

my steroid belly and my lack

of cleavage, wore it with that hat –

hated it by the end,

and burned it. Only good for that;

 

The Christmas party stand-by –

glitzed up with gold,

the one that never creases,

old reliable. Always looks great.

You need a dress like that;

 

the funeral one, worn with

a black bolero, jet-beaded,

standing in the rain

and weeping, yoked by the family;

 

the gently flowing one

with folksy flowers,

forgiving.

 

We all need forgiveness.

And a perfect dress.

 

Anmol is hosting at dVerse tonight and asks us to think about shades of black. There haven’t been many constants in my wardrobe, but a little black dress is one of them.