Wearing my dad’s robe and pink knickers
We used to call all robes dressing gowns
But if I say I’m wearing my dad’s dressing
Gown you won’t quite get it the burgundy
And navy striped flannel not the silk I
Bought for myself and not the hospital
Gown they wrapped him in so I look in
The hallway mirror and the pink panties
And the robe and I’m wearing Christmas
Socks and there’s something about this
Homeliness and memory in the robe is
Like he’s hugging me and I stop wondering
If maybe I should move the mirror away.