Black Dress by Julie Enszer

BLACK DRESS

by Julie Enszer

Linen, long. Two slits on the side.
I had one exactly like it,
but it was purple with two patch
pockets. One winter, I stored it
until spring. It was lost. I snatch
this black one off the rack. I want
it mostly for memory. I wore
that purple dress when my life was
less complex. I was single.
I want to recapture that, but
this new dress is stiff. It scratches
my back. I want to wear it sans
brassiere but it demands support.
No matter, soon it, too, will be lost.
UNPLUGGED

The day my iPod broke,
I brought it to the cool, cubed
Apple store

The ‘genius’ behind the bar
quipped that it had been broken
by Alanis Morisette or Lucinda Williams

They are both so angry,
he said, They are both so angry

And I was tired
and I was cranky
but I wanted my music back,
so I simply glowered

But I was jealous of Alanis
I was jealous of Lucinda—
their anger had broken something

The rest of us are just
unsuccessfully angry
scowling as the world revolves
blithely ignoring injustice

The rest of us are like
Andrea Dworkin once angry
so very angry
now dead

www.JulieREnszer.com