What on Earth Am I Going to Wear? Poem by Sabine Scho

Are street clothes right
for déjeuner sur l'herbe
sweet buns with plenty of butter,

brioche outdoors, ambrosial tastes
well-catered for ‘arouse the
public sense of embarrassment'

Still, in the emperor's new clothes
the tyranny of what to wear
bares itself yet again: Brumaire
dissolves, melts in the mouth

Eve's wining and dining, her undone
small tongue - irreverently within reach

potbellied bird from the Turdidae family
takes a deep, baritone's breath
and drones (Dolby-A Sound)

no resonance, black-as-a-bull's-eye thrush, you're too soused
oh, but
what on earth am I going to wear?

translated by Judith Beveridge