Shopping for God

“… how many men have copied dew


For buttons, how many women have covered themselves


With dew, dew dresses, stones and chains of dew, heads


Of the floweriest flowers dewed with the dewiest dew.


One grows to hate these things except on the dump.”

—Wallace Stevens, “The Man on the Dump”

Mend the hole, make me whole —

Miuccia, Giorgio, and Domenico.

Tag me and label me.

Notice me. Give me life.

Stitch me together and embrace my limbs.

Let me walk each step 

And be reminded of craftsmanship 

And elegance and quality.

Heap it into bags 
Bearing your blessed names

And stuff my closet till it runneth over.

I cannot fill it fast enough.

I lay down my offering at your altar.

Bestow upon me the bounty of what will

Tear, tatter, stain, fray,

And turn to dust.

I shake, ecstatic, before you.

I am made in your image.

So fleetingly happy, I kiss

The one I am with: Pure joy.

Tell me, what will a man

Give in exchange for his soul?

Dress me up in the finest leather,

Silk, silver, and stone, the genuine article.

Thank you, God, but first I must thank

Diane, Allegra, and Donatella.

As I have loved you,

You must love one another.