She has fashioned for herself
a gown
of hollowed egg shells
and white thread.
She has taken from the clasp and string
her great-grandmother’s pearls
and arranged the four hundred sixty-eight
fawn moonscapes
to hang in their stead.
An undergarment of ivy,
woven to lift the dry shells
from her naked collarbones,
is interwoven with the wild orchids
that adorn the bodice.
The crinoline is formed of dried bundles
of bugleweed, saved from midsummer picking —
eight times in youth,
and twenty-seven times
since.
She has trimmed the hem with holly.
A train of evergreen.
She saves for the last
to tie the knot.
Breaking the thread with her teeth,
sliding the needle into the cushion,
leaving open the door
to the coop.
Only has a 'like' button.
Need a 'love' button for this one.
Well.... at least it's in the shape of a heart.