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Authors: Gabrielle Prendergast
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brother
Didnât want to marry
The girl my parents suggested
He didnât want to marry any girl
My brother
Lives in New York
I think he will take us in
If you donât mind that heâs gay
My God
Of course you donât mind
You are the only one
Who accepts everyone as they are.
PACKING
It feels like only days ago
I packed this stuff
Iâll start again
I told myself
Iâll start
Again
Again
Iâll start
A packed bag
A promise to try
To stay out of trouble
A train ticket east
Two train tickets east
And a declaration
Of true love
A dream
Escape
Us
We
Need
Each other
A few clothes
Long-sleeved shirts
A vintage dress I wore once
A pink dress
Appears, resurrected
I threw it away
And yet
There
It is
It is
The dress
I tried to leave
Like the part of me
That refuses to conform
I hope they like it in New York.
THE PINK CHIFFON DRESS
Mom thought it was from the â60s,
Maybe the â70s
I found it at the thrift store
By the soup kitchen
I liked how soft the fabric was
Like waves of pink cobwebs
And I liked that it had long sleeves
And a high neck
Because I hated to show too much
I loved the bright color
And the way it moved
When I twirled in the fitting room
I liked how bold it seemed
At the black and white ball
The girls in their little black sheaths
All collarbones and pushed-up boobs
And me a fluffy little pink flower
Glowing in the slag pile
Though I donât remember dancing in it
And there are no pictures of me at the dance
Just an elusive memory of some excitement
Some kind of scene that Mom and Dad
Were not happy about (whatâs new?)
And nausea because I got so drunk.
Itâs a little loose now
Iâve lost some shape
From stress, maybe
But it still makes me feel powerful
Feminine, strong, safe and
Like myself again.
KAYLI
Nice dress, says Kayli
I think itâs possessed, I say
It followed me from the old house
Kayli laughs
I rescued it from the charity pile
Itâs so you, you canât give it away
Iâm going to wear it every day
I say, until I graduate
That might be forever
I have come down to the pink-palace boudoir
To deliver a gift
One of the A âs from Audacious
The âasthmaticâ Kayli looks sunken
And scared, breathless
Just like our imagined doomed heroines
Iâm not sure what audacious means
She says, as we hang up the canvas
I mean I donât think I am anyway
Her walls are the same shade of pink
As the floaty vintage dress
I could disappear in here, I joke
But Kayli doesnât laugh
I know you want to disappear , she says
I hid that dress in a suitcase
And why would you open a suitcase
If you werenât planning on using it?
To that I have no answer.
chapter fourteen
TEA
THE SEND-OFF
No one wants to hear this:
Is that what youâre wearing?
Mom says it, eyeing my pink chiffon
Wouldnât something black â¦?
Would The Phantom wear black to a funeral?
I ask, even her own?
But Mom frowns silently all the way to church
It took her this long to find some family
And bus them in from the south.
The Phantomâs brother is a veteran
He used to visit her, send her money
But then he had a stroke and things got tight.
He limps up the aisle and stands
By the plain coffin the church paid for
His wife sits pinch-lipped and silent
Like poor Charlotte couldnât even die right
The photo on the casket looks nothing like her
But I have a remedy for that.
Ugly, it reads, unashamedly
She was what she was
Vulgar, rude, crazy, drunk
Puzzle pieces loosely fitting together
She was a question, the answer to which
Only she knew.
Afterward Mom talks to the brother
Consoles him, poor man
He did all he could
She was never the same, he says
After her son died in the accident
And Mom cries and cries, later in the car.
NINA
She finds it
Driving through snow and tears
The house over the train tracks
It is still festooned with
Didnât want to marry
The girl my parents suggested
He didnât want to marry any girl
My brother
Lives in New York
I think he will take us in
If you donât mind that heâs gay
My God
Of course you donât mind
You are the only one
Who accepts everyone as they are.
PACKING
It feels like only days ago
I packed this stuff
Iâll start again
I told myself
Iâll start
Again
Again
Iâll start
A packed bag
A promise to try
To stay out of trouble
A train ticket east
Two train tickets east
And a declaration
Of true love
A dream
Escape
Us
We
Need
Each other
A few clothes
Long-sleeved shirts
A vintage dress I wore once
A pink dress
Appears, resurrected
I threw it away
And yet
There
It is
It is
The dress
I tried to leave
Like the part of me
That refuses to conform
I hope they like it in New York.
THE PINK CHIFFON DRESS
Mom thought it was from the â60s,
Maybe the â70s
I found it at the thrift store
By the soup kitchen
I liked how soft the fabric was
Like waves of pink cobwebs
And I liked that it had long sleeves
And a high neck
Because I hated to show too much
I loved the bright color
And the way it moved
When I twirled in the fitting room
I liked how bold it seemed
At the black and white ball
The girls in their little black sheaths
All collarbones and pushed-up boobs
And me a fluffy little pink flower
Glowing in the slag pile
Though I donât remember dancing in it
And there are no pictures of me at the dance
Just an elusive memory of some excitement
Some kind of scene that Mom and Dad
Were not happy about (whatâs new?)
And nausea because I got so drunk.
Itâs a little loose now
Iâve lost some shape
From stress, maybe
But it still makes me feel powerful
Feminine, strong, safe and
Like myself again.
KAYLI
Nice dress, says Kayli
I think itâs possessed, I say
It followed me from the old house
Kayli laughs
I rescued it from the charity pile
Itâs so you, you canât give it away
Iâm going to wear it every day
I say, until I graduate
That might be forever
I have come down to the pink-palace boudoir
To deliver a gift
One of the A âs from Audacious
The âasthmaticâ Kayli looks sunken
And scared, breathless
Just like our imagined doomed heroines
Iâm not sure what audacious means
She says, as we hang up the canvas
I mean I donât think I am anyway
Her walls are the same shade of pink
As the floaty vintage dress
I could disappear in here, I joke
But Kayli doesnât laugh
I know you want to disappear , she says
I hid that dress in a suitcase
And why would you open a suitcase
If you werenât planning on using it?
To that I have no answer.
chapter fourteen
TEA
THE SEND-OFF
No one wants to hear this:
Is that what youâre wearing?
Mom says it, eyeing my pink chiffon
Wouldnât something black â¦?
Would The Phantom wear black to a funeral?
I ask, even her own?
But Mom frowns silently all the way to church
It took her this long to find some family
And bus them in from the south.
The Phantomâs brother is a veteran
He used to visit her, send her money
But then he had a stroke and things got tight.
He limps up the aisle and stands
By the plain coffin the church paid for
His wife sits pinch-lipped and silent
Like poor Charlotte couldnât even die right
The photo on the casket looks nothing like her
But I have a remedy for that.
Ugly, it reads, unashamedly
She was what she was
Vulgar, rude, crazy, drunk
Puzzle pieces loosely fitting together
She was a question, the answer to which
Only she knew.
Afterward Mom talks to the brother
Consoles him, poor man
He did all he could
She was never the same, he says
After her son died in the accident
And Mom cries and cries, later in the car.
NINA
She finds it
Driving through snow and tears
The house over the train tracks
It is still festooned with
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