The Velvet Book
Velvet was someone saying yes,
the room beyond this door, the space
between your ribs, where
between rib and rib darkness holds itself
compact as a line pressed from
the white. Velvet was the heaving, always
closing what could not stay open:
we were supposed to die out. / You had your face
pressed up against the coarse dyed velvet /
Of the curtain, always looking out for your own
transmigration: / What colors you would
wear, what cut of jewel posed the one whose lines
my hands horizoned.
So many kinds of pages.
Latest posts by sundresspublications (see all)
- We Call Upon the Author to Explain—Timothy Geiger - May 4, 2026
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Apostasies by Holli Carrell - May 4, 2026
- Project Bookshelf: Rachel Bulman - May 1, 2026



