Heir to the Unchosen Hour Shirt Size:L None of them made sense—except

None of them made sense—except the shirt

He is a somnambulist in disguise —

The dress used to mean something: a dinner

The kind of fabric that doesn’t welcome metal

Her top flutters like a thought she was never allowed to finish — red chiffon

Heir to the Unchosen Hour Shirt Size:L None of them made sense—exceptHe walks like hes late to a life he never chose. The crochet clings like memory heiry in places. It was handmade, like most of his charm. Looped together with good intentions and generational guilt. He is a somnambulist in disguise alert, articulate, but not entirely awake. He answers questions with questions. Smiles like punctuation. The shirt looks awake, but he does not. Its hue? Something between faded envy and steeped solitude. Like moss pressed