On the face of a yellowed, dog-eared package,
they lounge with sly smiles, coiffed hair,
jackets cinched/straight; skirts dirndl/sheath,
perpetual Easter shades of yellow, pink, ice blue.
White gloves, dainty pointing toes in chaste pumps,
perfection of pale no-context watercolour,
they gesture calmly in their void,
the promise of life lived through clothes.
Lovely synthetic flock, unworried
about wandering husbands, unpaid taxes,
cruel cuts by the coffee klatch;
forever fresh, ready for the party
that must be on the inside of the envelope.