I found a stocking under the bedside table <br />one of those knee-high ones that aren't real stockings <br />and cast no glamour <br /> <br />shed shrivelled <br />like a tiny proboscis <br />in that corner <br />where it crumpled <br />among some bits of glass from something broken <br /> <br />with the dust of her skin in the gauze<br /><br />jules bulman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-found-a-stocking-under-the-bedside-table/
