Uniform

Monday's Poem

uniform ´54

white anchor and stripes are stitched by hand
i never knew you could sew, but you did

jump out of airplanes, your paratrooper badge
on this frayed left wrist will remind you

how afraid you were, for years
an honour, your jacket navy blue

smells of old wool and moth balls
under the back flap of collar

6623-B, your name faded
this is the first time i really looked

tried it on, it somehow fits
and i am surprised

what i find in your pocket—
should i think it was left for me


Short-listed in 2004 for Lichen's 'Tracking a Serial Poet' poetry suite competition, Sandra Ridley's most recent published work appears in Yawp, and the Bywords Quarterly Journal. In previous behind-the-scenes incarnations, she's been part of the editing teams for Ottawa's LitWit Review, and Trail and Landscape. Always a wheat farm girl, this emerging writer currently lives in Ottawa.	Monday's Poem © Sandra Ridley uniform ´54 white anchor and stripes are stitched by hand i never knew you could sew, but you did jump out of airplanes, your paratrooper badge on this frayed left wrist will remind you how afraid you were, for years an honour, your jacket navy blue smells of old wool and moth balls under the back flap of collar 6623-B, your name faded this is the first time i really looked tried it on, it somehow fits and i am surprised what i find in your pocket— should i think it was left for me
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