Clothes Pins

Look on up and you will see

Clothes pins gripping dungarees

Little stockings in the air

Bloodied tufts of homespun hair

What we dry beneath God’s gaze

Sins pinched and dragged through the haze

Nothing left for us to wear

Till the breeze has dried our care

Old banners and barnyard owls

Yellow vomit speckled towels

We snap it all on the line

Hoist it like a sailor’s sign

Our distress call to the sun

Search us out while on your run

Recycle all the old sins

Checkered pants and smoke stained skins

Give us back our dignity

We’ll don the socks of chivalry

Add more starch to the collar

Tight creased pants when we holler

For gentlemen need their clothes

Tailored suits when in repose

Warmed crisp by the sun on high

Touched off with a handsome tie

You’ll find yourself pinned up there

Willowy bones weathered fair

Not a bad fate if I say

Dried out by eternal day

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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