A Palimpsest

5  

There was a photograph from my mother’s
high school prom: one row of girls in pastel
dresses, frothy as flowers. A second row

of them dressed in shirts of sheer 
pineapple fabric and dark trousers, hair 
pomade-slicked like gallants. Perhaps 
some felt born to play the part.

But that part of the reel is broken
or scissored out, or was never 
meant to see the light.

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