On Robert Pinsky's Shirt Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

Stuffed shirt, patrician, creases ironed out
Something is not quite right I feel
About your parables - about your morals.

But then I am also one of the privileged
Although I am not of the neck-tie variety
Being open neck, sleeves rolled up for work.

Theory is, I would give you the shirt off my back
But in practice I just let my old t's accumulate
At the back of the wardrobe until they sour.

Perhaps then there is nothing between us
In our passing references to the others -
The ones who sweatshop the oxter seams

Those who, unlike us, long for the days' end
Release from monotony and servitude
And homecoming to pegged out squalor.

Take off the shirt, singlet, blouse or chemise
And we are similar or such, being humankind
Feeling the air around us or the touch of others
Exposed and open to scrutiny and interpretation.

Consider the lilies how they grow, without spin
And yet their glory outshines Solomon's shift
And the grass clothed in heaven - cast into hell.

Perhaps a single poem can flower away the hurt
Of the pinned-up bib behind cellophane wrapping
A work of nature's art to offset the straightened material

But he said, if you wish to be perfect sell everything
Give the proceeds to the poor keeping half a robe
In return for treasures in heaven - and follow me.

He did not say, become a poet and muse on poverty
Opine on the misfortunes of others and their losses:
The girls tossed like bales of cloth from the windowsill

Their skirts billowing up, showing stockings and bloomers
Ready for the pavement ramming home the loose fabric
The sidewalk roped off by wardens from the thoroughfare

Or the descendant of slaves, the field worker pickaninny
Gathering the bolls into the basket to be weighed,
The mill worker among the dusty clattering looms

Desperately awaiting time's up to return to her baby
And Irma the old black lady who is a garment worker
Checking cuts and seams, pockets and button holes

Making certain that the pins have setback the collar
Showing its necklace to best advantage for the buyer
Ensuring the transparent packaging is stretched taut.

And the word is and manifests - the labels explain
Its cost, its clean smell, feel, colour, pattern and quality
And whether it fits - fits the bill - is fit for purpose

The separation that is inevitable between us all
And more particularly between the rich and the poor
Between those who labour and the department store shopper

Between the poet and the subject of his poetry and pity -
The pain that divides those who observe from those who suffer
Silently to provide us with the covering we need - the second skin.