Apollo Chastain
Clothes
i.
I clean up well. Some men pay to scream
a name I give them.
The pleats explode with starlings.
ii.
sweetheart neckline
nipple pasties
his old band t-shirt
let me in the office with the gold detailing
let me in the church where the treaties are signed
drape light to hide the hunting cat
iii.
I pour water into a wool sweater and swing
it in a circle around my head.
“Let me see.” Satin flakes from my breasts, rust
tongues from the flanks of an oil tanker.
My memory is peeling from my life.
Are you going to unlock the door, or what?
iv.
The museum exhibits costumes from a famous
movie. Ballgowns hulk like taxidermy panthers.
The actress asked if she could keep her wardrobe: twirled
silk skirts while drinking champagne. Her character’s
dresses made her feel “like a badass.” When the cop pulled over
to ask what I was up to, I pulled
down my sleeves to still the blood.
Apollo Chastain’s poetry and criticism appears in Poets.org, The American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, others. They are from the road.