Just a short lollipop yellow dress.
But its ribbons and threads
still remember you.
Your fingers twirling the short ribbon
telling me to come near–
The dress danced over my knees
like my soul just jumped out of a plane.
The yellow has not faded,
but the dress sleeps folded
on a dusty shelf.
When the barbed wire of your storms
start to climb high in my memory,
I pull out that yellow dress.
And remember how it thrust against
your fingers and words.
That one night
when our fences retreated.
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