print previewback LAUREN MICHELE JACKSON
Tara’s Suit
Before death she said, Bury me
in the clothes of my lover, but
when she passed there was no
lover to be found. They dressed
her in her father’s trousers, her
brother’s vest, and the lip-stained
remains of the oldest son’s shirt.
When the people came they did
not note the way her hair just
so curled lovingly around the
buttons of he who beat her; nor
did they think it prudent to mark
the knee thrust against a tiny
not-quite-neat stitch in the leg.
So beautiful she looked and so
they say Breathtaking instead.
So cold she seemed but they
say Sad, or perhaps Solemn.
I loved her, said one, from the
back. He had donated the vest. 