Life is Too Short to Just Wear Black

Or, An Ode To Candied Fabrics, Who Is Very Busy Quilting, Yet Commented on my Blog Anyway

Everyday, the grass pushes up through the dirt
And Everyday
We swing the doors of our houses
In and out–
(My front door is red, chipping red paint
With chipping brass fixtures)–
And Everyday, we knit our wardrobe
Together from the fabrics of our
Taste. Socks from bullseye-red
Target;
The Perfect Jeans from the
Sale rack at Dillards– Its door
Revolving with heaps of
Pulsating, Blood-filled
Bodies certain that life is
Better now that they’ve got themselves that
Singular Scarf of many Colors.

Everyday, we wrap ourselves
In someone else’s dreams
Candied fabrics stitched together in the dark–
When someone willing
Decided that
Life was too short, finally,
To just wear Black.