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Back to Issue 3 - Fall/Spring 2013

Photograph
D. Parman

I saw myself the other day
in a multi-hued memory of the past
beaming with vapid delight.
The lie of my life hidden
under a perfectly powdered veneer.
I laughed
as I looked into my faux facade,
recalling
the hour the image was graven.
The chaos of my life
carefully contained
In long and curling
statements about my hips.
I was pretty then.

I,
Always alone
among others
that thought they glimpsed,
a glimmer of
what never was
in my lacquered laughter.
Verdant sunshine
glimmering off
ivory silk insecurity.

Cringing,
from the corners of my conscious mind,
memories come unbidden.
15 blood-stained ghosts
enact a long-dead war
to mock me.
And I wish I'd known
I was pretty then.

I wish
I'd been taught to love
the lonely young lady
with the smile she painted on
just that morning,
every morning,
hoping
it would come to life,
and be real.