I thought I had shed them but I still have them on,
Those garments that were smothering me, deceiving me no less.
They were hand-me-downs well worn.
Some days they made me look fat.
Some days I looked thin.
After a while I couldn’t tell who it was that
peered back at me in the mirror.
Finally I bagged them up, those shape-shifting garments.
I left them on my porch for the second hand truck.
I was not there when the truck came by.
Time passes and a familiarity sets in, first vague and then clear.
I run to the porch and there sits the bag with those clothes therein.
A note attached says, “Return to sender. Too well worn.”
By Antigone Black