Velvet has a subtle way
of scratching neglected angles
thought hidden, laying bare
imperfections once declared
hallmarks of originality
leaving one scarred, creased, and scared
in the floodlights of public opinion.

Satins and silks are no better,
sliding as they do, snagging
on every hangnail feathered edge
running off to tell the neighbors
there’s a pimple on your ass
worth debating.

Now cotton, loves your hips
but do you ever wear it without
thinking of cotton-ginned machinations,
blood and heat commingling
making a mockery of 300 years
with it’s rosette patterns and
floral bouquets?

The truth is your skin is
salted perfection, texturized
to highlight every precious
imperfection and perfectly
encapsulating your singularity,
your contradiction of simultaneous
infinite and finite-ness that
no fabric should ever hide.

Tamara Fricke is the 2010 co-winner of the Gertrude Claytor Award of the Academy of American Poets and is previously published by The Lyon Review, Meat for Tea, Attack Bear Press Poetry Vending Machine, Whisper and the Roar, We Will Not Be Silenced, and has been included in a number of compilations.  Her poetry chapbook Our Requiem was released in 2014.  She lives in Springfield, MA, with an ungrateful cat, where she writes grants professionally.