A coat of softest skin. The emperor
It's not his skin. He's blinded by finery
As chiffon and lace, as insouciance is
Enough, or once was: silk delicious,
Understanding can't hold you together.
To every other. To impulse
To do now but surrender
I am obsessed these days with the body, and have long been interested in clothes as objects that can embody really fine, accessible design—though many people who practice "high arts" like poetry are dismissive of this eminently democratic art form. In this poem, the tale The Emperor's New Clothes became a little machine for thinking about both the body and our relationship to its adornments, both built in and added.