B.K. Fischer

The Lichen Coat

After Ruby Chishti, An intangible sanctuary of ocean and stars (men’s wool overcoat, scraps of textile, thread, clay, paint), 2018

The darkness came down hard
that November, and when I took
the coat out of the closet, it had 

changed, shed its skin, split open
at the seams, blistered, lichened—
I mean lichen had emerged along 

the lapels and across the yoke,
the cuffs, stiff gray-green ruffles
along tears in the fabric. Gray

herringbone had become bark
of a black oak, had tattered and
taken the shape of volve, of turn,

return, revert. I shook it to loosen
the dust, flung it around myself
as one does when alone, no one 

holding it open, thrusting one arm
then the other and shrugging back
the shoulders, buttoning it over 

these ashen petals, stony blooms,
frilled and hammered bits and
filaments, ferric-red, sulphur-

yellow, unravelling volve, revolve,
involve along the pockets, gap and
fray, so any coins I might have left

there had dropped into the lining
and weighted the hem, ballasted
the vessel where I hunker down

against the squall, draw the coarse-
leafed collar up to shield my face,
draw salt, draw down to the roots.

Back to Issue XV…