Loose T-shirt in a Tight Space

I’m sure it started in a warehouse

but eventually you’d wear it down

to be little more than threadbare

red hair

still stuck to its seams.


You left it in your dresser

for far too long

it used to lie

in a heap of haste

on the carpet by the bed


the lazy blue hues reminded you

too much of old

summer day dreams

caught up in a haze of

cotton sheets and cotton

t’s cast



It’s so much more than

the American Apparel

tag or iconic

unisex complexity

jammed in between

jeans and sweaters

or separating bodies

pressed together

plant based fibres

woven tight to fight

the quickened breath

of chest on chest and

air breathed between

four lungs


your breath

her sweat

knit tight


between the dishonest thread count

a businessman came up with

in his pyjamas

working from his mother’s old laptop

while he lounged on the futon.

Screen printed somewhere in the basement

of a low budget

geek chic enterprise


when you ordered it online

the colours looked brighter

but pictures and computer screens

and smiles and affectionate pleas—


they can be deceiving.


who owns it

while it is crumpled

on the carpet by your bed


you let her wear it

when it’s dark outside;

on her way to the bathroom—

the hem barely covering

the top of her thighs

she hasn’t worn it

in a long time


her red hair

is still stuck in the seams

and you haven’t worn it since