Poetry

Plaid Shirt

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 POETRY

 



the smell that still clings to his flannel

shirt — cedary, clean and also

mildewed like a cabin no one’s lived in,

sharp, pungent, soap, nothing

left of those thin arms wrapping themselves

around me now but cloth.



As April is National Poetry Month, all this week we are featuring a poem a

day in addition to our regular content. For more features, see

Poetry.



©2000 Liz Rosenberg and Nerve Publishing