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.