Poem
Jill Jones
THE DRESS SONNET
THE DRESS SONNET
THE DRESS SONNET
I have taken off my little dress, there’s no scopefor me within it, there are things
that fall down the body, like breath and the texture
of the flap. This is a button I can’t do.
I don’t want to argue on the easy side. “Don’t expect
an audience or a reveal.” O, the little dress
shimmers in the near breeze as I’m falling down
my body and, at last with my ear to the ground
it’s too late in the season to please as wind removes
my feathers and shaves my bones with that first whip
of change, and each winter, if it comes along, do I
need its great coat, will I have done with cumbered sleeves?
Sometimes I could do with the humour of a petticoat.
O, let me part the clouds, let me in.
© 2006, Jill Jones
From: The Drunken Boat, Volume 6, Numbers I-II, Spring/Summer 2006.
From: The Drunken Boat, Volume 6, Numbers I-II, Spring/Summer 2006.
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Poems of Jill Jones
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THE DRESS SONNET
I have taken off my little dress, there’s no scopefor me within it, there are things
that fall down the body, like breath and the texture
of the flap. This is a button I can’t do.
I don’t want to argue on the easy side. “Don’t expect
an audience or a reveal.” O, the little dress
shimmers in the near breeze as I’m falling down
my body and, at last with my ear to the ground
it’s too late in the season to please as wind removes
my feathers and shaves my bones with that first whip
of change, and each winter, if it comes along, do I
need its great coat, will I have done with cumbered sleeves?
Sometimes I could do with the humour of a petticoat.
O, let me part the clouds, let me in.
From: The Drunken Boat, Volume 6, Numbers I-II, Spring/Summer 2006.
THE DRESS SONNET
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