things you should know

I should throw it away. Nubbed and frayed

from all the cycles. The thrashing and the tumbling. 

This shabby robe that robs the dignity of my undressing.

This effigy that hangs on tatty sleeves. These droopy pockets

where I store the balled-up tissues.

This limp pink shadow of myself I should give to the incinerator,

this robe I’ve kept as mantle when I basked in warmth of things that last.

So what if this is fantasy? This phantom hug. This thunder-blanket after

lightning strikes, this wrap for times I huddle black and tragic under covers.

This myth of how in saving this one cassock I can save

the planet. I know bleach persists, lead and dyes, chromium

and other volatiles that witness every child who breathes

my dust. Delicates, I think it says, in faded thread stitched on the label.

We don’t need another slum.

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Kathleen Hellen is the author of three poetry collections, including Meet Me at the Bottom, The Only Country Was the Color of My Skin, and Umberto’s Night, which won the poetry prize from Washington Writers’ Publishing House, and two chapbooks. She is the recipient of the James Still Award, the Thomas Merton prize for Poetry, and poetry prizes from the H.O.W. Journal and Washington Square Review.