Jessica Walsh

I review email from a tailor who calls me Madame
tells me how to measure myself, since I must,
what a shame how we are reduced, isn’t it,
but surely his corset dress will bring me love
and comfort me through these terrible times.

As a child I played near the mill
and breathed deep the pines
loving trees and death of trees,
roots and needles, sawdust, sap.
I saw no border between wild and blade—
holy both.