Rock And Roll

Entry by: jaguar

18th January 2019
The Unclothing

You kept it in your drum
to weigh it down although
you moaned it was too light.
You replaced it with a fleece
chucked it at me, the shadow girl
always waiting to help you
pack up your kit. Move on.

A plain grey T-shirt from Next,
oversized, not my sort of thing
but I’d had it thirty years,
the softest garment
I’ve ever owned, comfort
to a T.

I’ve exposed all my selves
that once wore it - rippled
with sun-oil on holiday;
bleeding and afraid; raw;
I wore it as a nightshirt
the day you proposed, then again
the night when you moved on.

Your mother says you’ve made it
with your band, in Poland.
I should have stitched
its rip, not let it worsen
thinking it was time
to let go.