Pendleton Shirts
Wool that never wears out
Plaids welcome in any circle
Pockets shingled with flaps and
tails
That stay tucked no matter what
Yours smelling of lanoline
Mixed with gasoline
Sweat broken unloading
Imperial’s in Wheeling
Dried to salt scrim by Akron
Heroic buttons
Holding back
The minor planet of your belly
Satin labels stitched
Into the elliptical orbits of
collars
Shirts found
Sagging on hangers
At the end of the day
Exhausted from their work
Concealing the contours
Of a hounding emptiness.
love
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