Dear linen robe,

you’ve been mine for less than a month
in this Our Year of Bleach and
already I’ve found tell-tell white marks,
permanent reminders of the
craze for disinfecting.
This morning a speck of frozen raspberry
somehow found its way to you, and
the stain clung with an urgency which resisted

all attempts to scrub.
Still I cherish you, despite these imperfections,

in a way I never loved that
shimmering blue one,

with the
subtle rose print which looked immaculate
even straight out of a suitcase
and never gained a stain in all the seven
years with me in which it traveled repeatedly,
robustly, showing no sign of weakness or wear,

definitely worthy of being called a ‘dressing gown.’

I really hope things we dropped in the fireman’s charity clothing recycling bin are re-used, sold, passed on…..

because that gown has years of service left to give,

someone else might not mind the lack of breathe-ability,

and that polyester is never going to rot in landfill.

June 2020