Web Graphics & Design -
Dressmaker
Nothing touches like tan velvet
touches the palm. Now the cracks
come, because what gives
without taking?—Doesn't exist.
Say you forget what is lanolin,
what is raw about fleece uncarded
& unwashed. Say the silver feel
of charmeuse lines your sleep.
You've lost what there was before
pins & needles, sound a scissors
makes through cloth on a hardwood
floor, thick waist of the dressmaker's
dummy.
Don't tell me any more. Without
Burano lace, without cinnabar strung
on a cuff, shantung and satin and
netting and swiss: no rich man, no
camel, no needle's threatening eye.
by Éireann Lorsung
