Red Dress

It’s a part of him

He glides through like a parasol

Caught up in a gust of violent wind,

On it’s side, the spokes clattering

Against the glittering, oily street

He find himself spinning too violently

It’s a trembling force

His trembling hands grasp tightly onto his frizzy curls,

Doe-brown eyes tightly shut, shadowed in painted grief

Is this shame?

Like a sarcophagus

He slides on the red dress

It’s choking him as much as it brings him to life

More than his father’s old hand-me-down suit, more than a prison

He lies in it knowing it’s what he must wear

Will wear,

Clattering on the spokes of a course that fringes off a gray, tattered parasol,

Red fabric gleaming behind him.

***

Author note: If you enjoyed this piece, please check out my Amazon account and purchase my short stories book here

I hope you enjoyed!!

Thank you so much. More to find out about Arturo lies within the deep bowels of these pages.

-Melissa