The Raven Suit
and spotted tie
did animate'ly dance
The audience
in wonder watched
and quickly were entranced.
From glasses peered
two beady eyes
from under thinning hair
and right below
this lumpy nose
a mustache teased the air.
Heaven's halo shone above
a balding shiny orb
the mustache twitched
and from beneath
a violent wind rushed forth.
Like puppet strings
the jacket's arms
were pulled this way and that
and back and forth
the weary pants
were plodding there and back.
The humid air
depressing felt
and collars soon were limp
and all the clothing
in the crowd
sat slouching like a shrimp.
At last, Alas
the shoes had had
enough and squeaked so loud
that from within
some nearby clothes
some giggles wiggled out.
Standing still, the raven suit
stood melting in the heat
and then collapsed
upon the floor
and prayed "where's my receipt?"
"Please take me back
return me to
the store from whence I came
I'm not your slave
I'm made of silk
and you should be ashamed."
The clothing in
the pews arose
in silent tribute stood
and crumbled on
the floor as only
heaps of clothing could.
A cordless, key-less
symphony
of supplication rose
That all around the world
the cruelty stops
against the clothes.
Samantha Jayne Frost
1/16/2012
