Residues

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Her brain is stripped
to its inessentials.
She’s disposed of the gears.
Her mind is full of old shoes
that don’t fit.
Clothes. Which? Which?
She twitches a pair of slacks
over her shoulders.
‘I used to have such lovely … lovely …’

‘What do you think?’
She empties drawers full of soft bras and nighties
onto the floor.
Surrounded by debris.
Life at full tide
was just a big shopping trip.
‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ she states
calmly surveying
a cupboard full of clothes.

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