A Changed Man
First sight, you are sober coat, cable knit sweater and slacks,
then in the café a gold choker chain works out above your collar,
past it as 80s rolled up jacket sleeves and mullet, a bogey turn off for me.
Months later tucking your shirt in tent peg tight, my faux casual
Have you tried wearing it outside your jeans? 
Later at the party nibbling at small talk and nuts your hissed I feel scruffy.
The Crombie is spotted in a TV drama, horse cheering excitement
as you scan for it in every scene. I buy one for Christmas, awaken your sleeping dandy
as you fuss with silk pocket handkerchief, buy aviator sunglasses,
Coat’s first outing, clitoral appreciation as I watch your peacock strut,
catching other men admiring it, you order two more for every-day,
the mail order catalogue for men of a certain age binned now.
That birthday, you lose years as I upgrade economy Tesco shoes, PoundLand scent,
to my business class Clarks brogues, Calvin Klein cologne.
In breath at sight of you in the Ted Baker waist coat worn to surprise gig.
 A good Cheltenham means premium M & S jackets elbow Asda counterparts
 out of your wardrobe, drawers prove with Burton’s v necks, red and purple
 replacing beige and brown; wearing them I notice your throat is free now of
the chain, a gift from siblings bought with pocket money, you swore never to divest ,
whose breakage I inwardly punched the air at, that is still waiting to be repaired ,
my only worry that they think I made you take it off…

Fiona Sinclair

If you have any comments on this poem, Fiona Sinclair would be pleased to hear from you.