Jake's Flea Market

made more by the danish coloured tunic he wore
over the linen field of undershirt he’d laboured 
in a skin of sweat and dust for weeks before   

out of his rank he reached
a dirt worked hand that had clawed fields   fisted
knuckled at my slept- in   nakedness of clothes unflagged
of pennants   of banners   of emblems   the horror

to be looked at   by an attendant   to appear
to be made so very much like he

my comfort   complacency even   hung
on a peg by the door   my cloak
with brooches   with gold threads embroidered
my scarlet friendship to princes   family to kings