In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

13 t h e C L o t h e s w h I s P e r e r I don’t see dead people or whisper to horses, but this collection of clothes I carried from state to state began to speak to me. I know thrifty—shirt and sweater set castoffs from my uncle’s mother, now passed, neighbors, cousins, daughter in middle school. I don’t know why I hear them now, the violet-turquoise-fuchsia turtleneck saying Hands off, mister! I’ve got unicorns to catch! Both the salmon cardigan and chocolate cable knit with nautical buttons say, I’m in my 70s and I wear clothes too big for me. nothing shouts like overalls, In my spare time I play in dirt! The stuffy maroon sweater, Sorry I’m late, I was just at tea with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. my daughter hears the pink plaid blouse: I am a tablecloth. Bags of sartorial comment marked gooD wILL stack next to the mirror, my new clothes ignore the cries, Shoulder pads were popular in the 80s! An electric yellow fleece vest doesn’t look like a bumblebee suit! Red athletic socks are coming back! They will not have the last word, the loafers with the tire-tread soles proclaiming, You could walk to Norway, blue rubber rain boots with their Let me rub your ankles raw, striped boatneck scratching, I don’t go with anything. That white sweater won’t pull the wool over me. ...

Share