turning fifteen
2020
here is how we will measure the weight of everything:
in absences. the empty rectangle in the drawer
where my diary used to live, the gap
in my closet, that clean fabric grin, where
my flower-sequined white dress once hung like a baby tooth.
i watch videos of me and do not recognise the face –
first steps, dances, choir performances, defined
by the distance between myself and myself.
in may, i will be fifteen absences hollow.
my history took up half my body, the jubilant heft
of catching games and long division drills and
laughter; joy like a 6am sunny-side up before school, like a full belly.
i hear memory is the residue mistakes leave on your hands. better that it’s gone. but
if i’m empty now,
is that freedom or desolation?