Why I Love Corduroy
(A Coming of Age Story)
In the beginning
it was the sweet
swish swish
of the boys in the hall
on those dark January afternoons
in the Canadian high school of my youth
rushing to their secret destinations
their unwashed cords
crisp with an unnamed scent
known only to other girls
girls in the band
but not my kind of band
just
the other kind
of band
and later
an unraveling
thread
a boy in a lecture hall
on a dark January afternoon
his brown, velvet-soft jacket
(but no, it wasn’t velvet)
thread-bare
stained
the elbows patched
the buttons dangling
like his lip
when he stumbled
on a word
or a clasp
but now
it is mine
it is mine
the swish
the sweet swish swish
the cords
no longer brown
and beige
and beige-like
but multi-hued
an interesting cut
across the bias
my love of cord
is mine.
I say
my voice no longer
timorous
trembling
truncated
swish, swish
yes
swish, swish
yes.
SWISH, SWISH
YES
-Margaret Milnes