Work > Recent Writing

I made this dress with lots of pockets. One two three pockets. Eight nine ten pockets. I fill the pockets to the brim. With glitter? With hairs? With seashells? I am satisfied. Then I hop around. Does it all come out when I hop around? Yes. I forgot the zippers for the pockets. I take my broom but the glitter gets stuck to the lip of the dustpan. The shells are all broken from my stomping. The hairs have braided themselves into my eyelashes. I am so stupid. I have ruined everything.

Today, to my horror, my socks do not match. One is black and one is navy blue. I am such a fool. Such a stupid stupid fool. Thank goodness I have a black marker stuffed into my belt like a tiny dagger. I fling it out real swift like a good old fashioned punch. I kick off my shoe and I draw big swooping marks and tiny little dots all over my navy blue sock. I do it very fast. I don’t miss a single bit of my sock. Now I match. Now I’m very clever.

My coat is rather kite-like. It has sleeves like a coat but strings like a kite. It gets caught in the wind and I get a chill in my freaky little bones. The chill carries me up and into the sky, just like a big beautiful kite. The chill doesn’t make me shake. The chill makes me content.

When I put on my hat I become very impatient. Perhaps the hat is something that carries a tiny curse within its fibers which makes me itch just enough to realize I am not very content, and in fact, rather angry. Perhaps one day the tiny curse within the fibers of the itchy hat will encourage me to yell at my enemies. And push ‘em right to the ground! And stand on a big ginormous rock in victory!!!!! I’ll wave my cursed itchy hat in the air and a big gust of wind will pass through it and take away the itchy fibers and leave me with the soft fibers. The hat will be my favorite hat.

Poems about Difficult Clothes