The Pink Skirt Suit by Rachel Thanassoulis

The Pink Skirt Suit

We bought a pink skirt suit from Laura Ashley

for your sister’s wedding

you got me in a size eight

which surprised me, being the sort

who wore baggy jumpers, who would swap

a haircut for a veggie curry.

I looked amazing. 

Your mother was so happy.  She had

hoovered the church, showed me the

the bin of grey fluff in the dyson. Just look

at how much stuff there was in that carpet!

At the reception your father’s ghost

dragged you out onto the street

and I followed to where you slurred

and cursed, your vapours shaking

the space between us, now your hands

on the scruff of my lapels, shouting inches away

your spit, then

staggering back, holding your face

and a stranger shaking his fist from the punch

he’d thrown, asking if I was OK love.

My shame was made of an element

unknown to man, found only at the centre

of hard white stars. I clenched a nugget of it

tight then dropped it into my skirt suit pocket,

forever squirreled away

but slowly ripping

the fabric.

Rachel Thanassoulis is a writer and ecoflorist from Oxford.  Her poems have been published in Brittlestar, The Interpreter's House and Beyond Words.  She can be reached via Instagram: @rachel_thanassoulis or @folio_flowers if you would like to see her bouquets.