Beside Communion Candles and Hotel Soaps
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| Amber L., Carpinteria, CA |
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By Alicia C., Millburn, NJ
I spend my weekends in your old sweaters,
The sleeves dangling down a little farther
Around my fingertips.
Maybe one day I’ll grow into them.
The embroidered apples,
Chicks and sheep that line the hem.
And I love that card still,
It’s in my sock drawer beside communion candles and hotel soaps
You know, the one
That came with the intricate castle,
That twinkled with one hundred lights in one hundred windows.
You made me feel like a princess.
And I wish I could don that white dress,
You gave me
The one with the red and blue stars
That made my mother’s cheeks blossom with fury,
Because you always had to dress me.
The Valentine’s heart jumpers,
Sequins and velvet cropped above shaky knees.
I spend my days wrapped up in the ribbon of your music box,
The notes of an old song twanging on a little longer
Tugging at my earlobes.
Maybe one day I’ll live up to you.
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