I slipped the white,

chiffon dress over my small frame

it smelled of bitter moth balls

and stale air

in desperate need of a

Spring rain

I tied the ribbon

beneath my breast

pulled back my hair

loosely

in a tuck

never taking my eyes away

from the perfectly fitted gown

from the curve of my neck

from the similar, duplicate image

of you

 

Reading each page

gown circling around my knees –

my sentences

my questions

my innocence

You recorded my thoughts

I kept reading realizing how much

you adored

me.

 

I let me hair fall

over the pleated shoulders

clicked my heels

and wished for you

to appear

you are a gentle figure

in my imagination

a realistic plunge

into my past

and a mystery

I will never solve

 

For the rest of my life

I will walk a little crooked

and have no choice

but to accept

the unbalance.