Dressing

    by Diana Cole

To begin, the body must bend

slowly, hands moving apart.

One foot lifts, passes into the rolled fabric,

then the other. Hands glide up the leg,

easing the fine mesh over each knee.

She unbends, draws the nylons over her hips.

exhaling in spurts of exertion.

As the chair catches her fall,

it knocks out a sigh.

There was a time she stood on one leg

to add red paint to a Carousel horse.

A time she wet the thread, caught

the eye in one try. A time she could

flex Flocks, coax Spirea into a copper vase.

Now even buttons are a task.

The thumb and forefinger fumble

each disc through its buttonhole.

All these drawn-out fidgets to put oneself

together each morning before 9 AM.

To sit, to read, even to nap looking presentable.

To know her skirt is smooth, stockings straight,

laces tied, sweater buttoned,

earrings, lipstick, rouge.

© 2013  Diana Cole

Diana Cole’s poems have been selected for publication by numerous journals including Blueline, the Tipton Poetry Journal, the Aurorean, The Christian Century, Chaffin Journal, Slipstream, and Poetry East.  She was nominated by Touch:The Journal of Healing for a Pushcart Prize in 2011.