Fifteen and Fifty
Tall in tall
mirror
white and candle
slim with pale feet
( my dress whispering
" remember this”):
my mother kneels
with pins in her mouth,
folding organdy.
My father drops his
change in the dish.
He sees me there
all white and sudden,
and casts down
his eyes.
Room after lit room
I will walk lovely after this,
and think "Here is a mansion
of unending rooms”.
Today (I am still
pale and tall”)
my husband drops his
watch into the dish;
in the mirror
he sees me.
The lighted rooms end.
The doors softly click closed.
Here is the last room,
this one.
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