For what occasion did I save
that ill-fitting suit, those shoes
that pinched, that jeweled clutch
worn only one other time before I
put all away and lined the bags
with mothballs? I still have the two
white underskirts adorned with tiny
satin rosebuds made for my First Communion;
and the jade green blouse and skirt I wore
when I got hitched a second time.
Among the baby shoes and embroidered
bedspreads, there is an envelope too
in which I’ve kept relics— hair and nail
clippings, birth-cords: four dried, indigo-
colored discs smaller than stamps,
threaded through their hearts by safety
pins to paper, the way that mothers like
to keep their daughters close.
[LAG-signature date=”09 18 2014″ url=”http://morningporch.com/2014/09/159124072/”]