We tread the wood in J. Crew,
pluck grey seersucker and navy cashmere
and talk about dressing for the seasons
as though we will see each other
through the rhythm of a year's fabrics:
Memorial Day white, spring gingham,
fall merino, patchwork madras on the lake.
When the sales assistant mistakes me for your wife
I smile, briefly imagine that other life.
In the change room I watch you dress –
salt-washed twill, checkered linen,
and a slate oxford whose pearlescent buttons
at the neck are like oyster shells,
stubborn things that cling to impassive rock.
And as you do them up so confidently,
your hands knowing your body, your fingers anticipating
each distance, I think of your wife,
the way she will watch you
do this for years and years, how her fingers
will reverse all of it, the wreckage,
the ruin of covering up
then setting everything undone.

Sarah Holland-Batt

Sarah Holland-Batt is author of The Hazards (2015) and editor of The Best Australian Poems 2016. She is Poet of the Month.