The Mender
I polished his shoes to an avid
black; sewed buttons back
and mended torn silk and cotton.
His clothing was my busy work.
Needle, thread, stitch, and iron,
I was his apothecary of linens.
Blood, wine, soup, vomit --
these I cleaned too, until all their
color and scent were gone.
I never saw him wear the things
I mended. There was a dresser for that.
Instead, I held what was left
to repair -- tattered rips from fights;
mud stains; mucus, and semen.
Piecing him together, I worked late
into the night so that by morning,
a man without a body, seemed to appear.
I did not know him. I knew all the things
he did; his meals, his sex. His age.
And with thread I pushed and pulled;
with soap and sandalwood, I washed
finer things than I would ever wear.
I loved a man who was never there.
black; sewed buttons back
and mended torn silk and cotton.
His clothing was my busy work.
Needle, thread, stitch, and iron,
I was his apothecary of linens.
Blood, wine, soup, vomit --
these I cleaned too, until all their
color and scent were gone.
I never saw him wear the things
I mended. There was a dresser for that.
Instead, I held what was left
to repair -- tattered rips from fights;
mud stains; mucus, and semen.
Piecing him together, I worked late
into the night so that by morning,
a man without a body, seemed to appear.
I did not know him. I knew all the things
he did; his meals, his sex. His age.
And with thread I pushed and pulled;
with soap and sandalwood, I washed
finer things than I would ever wear.
I loved a man who was never there.
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Other stories by Philip F. Clark
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Beautifully told.
Excellent
Well done.
*
Like the way you put 'black' at the start of the line ending "back'. Also use of commas to force pauses ('mucus, and semen') is worth noting. The last line has resonance with the well-known ditty "I met a man who wasn't there". That would have given me pause to write something so similar. But on balance I like this quite a lot for what it says and for being well-formed.
Beautiful, Philip.