Ode to My Pants

This pair of ancient trousers may have belonged to a male shaman

[Third poem of the Domestic Odes suite. Photo shows oldest known pants, about 3300 years old, found in far western China].

Ode to My Pants

now thoroughly duded,
you have served me well
bramble protector,
wind cheater,
buckle-belted work hose,
humble pantaloons,
three dollar op-shop find
suiting me down to the T-bone rump
from the word go

discretely pressed the flesh
without impinging, warmly containing
like a good enough mother,
father, God, lolly wrapper, work
slacks, certainly no slackers

green guerrillero gear,
soft public fence and face
of my privates, your worn militarism
finally went peasant on our farm,
worn and patched at the knee
to withstand the bent-leg prayer
of prolonged planting a little longer

now, unbuttoned, nakedly
housing the first fungi
and slaters of love’s decay,
may our compost’s worm furnace
burn you back down to the earthy
bits that birthed your bright body
on some long forgotten plain
combed by immaculate
machines driven by men
in immaculate denim


~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on August 29, 2014.

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