Rubber Glove Wedding Dress Tier upon tier, this froth of inside-out fingers, pinned to a dressmaker’s dummy. It must have taken weeks - fingers deft inside fingers, latex nipped and stretched like balloons before the blowing which makes you think of birthdays, the prickle of magazine-pattern dresses your mother stayed up to sew, the terrycloth apron she wore to wash up the best plates and afterwards, Marigolds over taps, her wedding ring, with its dusting of talc, on the draining board. The day you scrubbed up in white, she had her first manicure, Rose-Dawn-tipped fingers fussing, pulling hooks and eyes tight. Today, you can almost hear her gallery whisper berating this modern stuff – this foamy pooling, this train of gloves, empty-handed as the pair you found yesterday in the pockets of her coat. Victoria Gatehouse Victoria Gatehouse is a Yorkshire-based poets whose work has featured in numerous magazines and anthologies. She originally trained as a scientist before working on her MA in Poetry from MMU. Victoria is particularly obsessed by the garment sculptures and installations of Suzie MacMurry who’s work she first encountered during a poetry course at Manchester Art Gallery. She has a pamphlet forthcoming with Valley Press and does voluntary work as a Library Ambassador for Calderdale.
1 Comment
4/9/2018 05:59:18 pm
Wonderful poem celebrating all labors of love. Thank you, Victoria.
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