In the avalanche of shameful livery assembled from colonial centuries
it is necessary to undress —
I remove my mother’s ermine-trimmed coat, my brother’s sugarloaf hat, my grandmother’s
pomegranate gown with the gold-embroidered sleeves, my father’s suspenders and blue jeans, my
ruched veil, high-tops, and striped wool socks.
To detonate this ode, this pain in baroque fog
I unlace my bodice —