day I wore the blouse
both men who didn’t care for me the day before,
as if reading from the same script, said:
I didn’t recognize you today.
In tones of approval.
I thought: It has something to do with the blouse.
have been dressed in luck, a dark blue.
The men, attentive now,
were the ones who were different.
But I liked the difference too.
a group of us went to a party.
The apartment had a balcony, breezes were soft.
began to feel sad about the blouse.
What was it about the blouse
wasn’t about me?
It was years before I turned thirty.
I simply have been grateful
and forgotten the day before and all
days before the blouse?
What turns luck, turns words,
to know entirely what’s likely or unlikely,
if it has something to do with the blouse.
-- Lee Upton