The latest Tess Kincaid poem.

They say not to wear white
after Labor Day

but he is not afraid to be seen
in the same clothes twice

he knows not to read
too much into everything

without social significance
yesterday’s mashed potatoes

are made to be worn year round
for centuries, even

a little room to swing around in
without must and dust and age

a private sort of greatness
a place of morning sun

here there are not quite
so many egg stains