The Dress | David Groulx

I pick up a dress you’ve left on the bedroom closet floor
like an old love you’ve left behind
for a new one
A dress that didn’t make you look fat
You were fat!
I always thought so
but never said so
like good husbands do
with the hopes of getting laid
even if it was terrible sex
mechanical
predictable
safe

I remember when you bought this dress
brand new
fresh
I waited hours
in the bar
patient
I remember I loved how it looked
on the floor
beside our bed

Now it’s just an old dress
I think I’ll  cut it into
rags to clean up the mess
you’ve left behind
even if you have
just forgotten it

 
Author : David Groulx 

David Groulx was raised in the Northern Ontario mining community of Elliot Lake. He is proud of his Aboriginal roots – his mother is Ojibwe Indian and his father French Canadian.David’s poetry has appeared in a 140 publications in England, Australia, Germany, Austria, Turkey, India, New Zealand, Scotland, Venezuela, Sweden, Romania and the USA. He lives in Ottawa, Canada.

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