1996

Published by Sledgehammer Literary Journal

June 21, 2021

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Squinting through the sunlight.

Mazzy Star and quiet smiles bring me back.

Head to head sharing headphones

Hidden in the corner of Meave’s loft bed.

Little Plastic Castle

and the meaning my heart longed to echo.

The smell of Nair. And burning.

Playing with fire.

And burning ashes.

And playing.

And burning.

My initiation into witchcraft,

staring at an orange as the lucite cross dangled from my neck.

A velvet rope held it to me—

a velvet rope that couldn’t contain me.

My period came—

Like a tidal wave while

Fiona Apple’s Tidal echoed in my ears, my soul.

Dilate pushing me into who I am...

someone

understood

me.

The me I kept folded behind heart shaped lockets.

Heresy and witchcraft, feminism and smudged lines.

And no lines.

Bangs—

Cowlicks I couldn’t control.

Everything I couldn’t control.

Blood and hair and the covering up of both.

And covering up the mixtape.

And the tears.

And the smell of burned hair and torched aerosol.

And the cigarettes I wasn’t yet ready to try.

Covering up me. But oh, so loosely.

Into the package I am finally ready to open.