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It hangs in the very depths
of his closet. Heavy dust edges
the top of the old-fashioned
garment bag. I'm on the hunt,
in a "clean up" mood, so I lift
the bag from its resting place
like a newly unearthed relic,
unzip it and ease the suit
into the light of day.
It feels much too heavy
for a California climate.
The midnight blue fabric strikes
me as funereal; cuffed pants
convey another millennium.
I feel something stiff in one pocket,
remove two tickets to the
Yuba City Rugby Club Banquet,
Saturday, April 26, 1987.
My Goodwill collection sack
is temptingly close. Will he miss the suit?
Ask where it is, not having worn it
for decades? Will I lie if he asks about it,
blithely saying,
Oh, we recycled it long ago. It didn't fit
any more, remember?
Or maybe I'll tell him the truth at our
upcoming 50th anniversary celebration—
I never liked that suit!
© by Norma Wightman.
Used with the author's permission.
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Norma Wightman lives in Morro Bay, California, where she walks the beach daily, leads nature hikes in local state parks, and enjoys yoga, kayaking, and birding around the beautiful central coast. Norma's poems have appeared in local publications and art exhibits and she has published chapbooks for family and friends. Her inspiration, she says, comes from everyday items and nature.
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wayne.goodling@yahoo.com:
Oh, boy! I like what you did -- after setting the scene, you told the whole story in the last line! Skillful writing.
Posted 02/05/2024 09:40 AM
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Jancan:
Pleasantly nostalgic
Posted 02/04/2024 04:47 PM
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Lori Levy:
I can see that suit. Great ending!
Posted 02/04/2024 02:22 PM
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peggy.turnbull:
Yikes!to the ending. Could open up a long conversation. Or maybe he doesnt like it either but its sentimental. You have my mind spinning with possibilities.
Posted 02/04/2024 11:57 AM
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CamilleBalla:
Good poem that leaves me smiling.
Posted 02/04/2024 11:07 AM
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Wilda Morris:
Surprise ending!
Posted 02/04/2024 07:39 AM
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