Jan Dean
White Ribbon
(2016)
Picture a stunning bride in white
covered in blood. Days of suffering
come to an end, in violence.
When I thought about dresses
for the dead, my tangent took me
faraway from fact. A group made
sixty-eight dresses, one for every woman
in our country murdered by her partner
so far this year. I won’t mess
around with metaphors. It’s enough
to think they died at the hands of someone
once loved and admired.
What do angels wear? Gossamer
trails, pale as air, or suits of silver
to bulletproof the bare. There’s
a narrow ribbon of white, connecting
angels to new clothes back there.
Previously published: Intermittent Angels, Girls on Key, 2020
