GRANNY'S DRESSFORM

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The skeleton wears taffeta,  
all ribs and rust~  
her hollow waist a cathedral  
of pins and dust.  

She stands in the attic light,  
leaning slightly,  
as if listening  
for the hum of a Singer,  
the whisper of shears,  
the sigh of satin  
unspooling its threads.  

Time slips through her seams,  
but the darts remember  
where the body has been~  
each curve my 
grandmother’s faceless ghost. 

 The dress form is a museum piece 
of vanished touch,  
a still life in gingham,  
holding the shape  
of my grandmother’s love.

11th gradegrandmotherfree verse

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