Stuffed Shirt

My new wife laid my freshly ironed shirt on the newly made bed. She had folded the sleeves to lie on the shirt's body, cuff resting on cuff, rather than stretched out to the sides.


Like a supplicant


Like a meditative


Like a straitjacket


Like a burial shroud


Like a police chalk outline that had been filled in


I bought drip-dry shirts from then on in...