Love Flails

The dress form is in the hallway.
There is room there, and a bit of light.
A hint of structure, a lot of frills flailing
like new love, wild and without shape,
full of promise. Just enough
to make people look.

About this poem

I reflect on love often. New love. Second chances at love. The safety and danger of love. It’s a big part of my life’s story. showing up when I look back, or at where I am, or ahead. When I am in love, people notice. I suspect that is true of us all.

Or about starting a dress. Poetry is never about one thing.

The photograph was taken at the Hancock Shaker Village in Hancock, Mass.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom