Verse Dress
for T.L.C.

our pens, our knitting needles
balls of chord, our fists or hearts

without end fashioning in unison
for head or feet, for her or me

poem made for her for Christmas,
shared with friends around the world

girl I hardly know and me
attend poetry festivals in verse alone

in hat and bag,
with an umbrella,
off to town in ironweed
as mad as could be

poetic deeds to do
until doomsday comes
or to prevent it descending
upon our city


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
4:44 a.m. 28.12.07