A hundred uncollected shirts dutifully queued up,
abandoned in shut down dry cleaners.
Crisp, pressed best stood to attention
checking invisible wrist watches,
anxious they’d be late.
Haunted rows of ghosts from weddings past
longed for flesh to cling to, silently
mumbling small talk through imagined mouths
as their open necks breathed indefinitely.
Buttons prayed to be fiddled by finger tips
as they cursed the stains that imprisoned them.
© Carl Burkitt 2020
