Clothe the closets
in button-downs
warm from
the dryer, warmer
than when
I unbutton, take his arms
from the sleeves,
litter the floor
with the collar, the baby
blue, the ordered
buttons, disordered
in folds. I close
the collars
on hangers, sway
in the half-light.
They keep the shape
of shoulders.
Q & A
Question:
Laura wore
an orange sarong
to the beach each
Sunday. She laid
it in the sand,
got a hotdog
from a hotdog
stand. Who took the sarong?
Answer:
First, two children
vacationing with grandmother.
Then grandmother,
cold as the sun
sank. Then a boy catching
beach crabs. Then a black
Labrador for
fetch. Finally,
the birds, thread by thread.
Renee Emerson is a MFA student at Boston University. Her work has appeared in Tar River Poetry, Keyhole Publications, Sojourn, Decomp, and most recently in Ruminate. Currently, she lives in the suburbs of the city with her husband and two cats, Ralph and Waldo.
