Valerie Wetlaufer

I loved a girl when I was a girl, before I knew desire could be used against me. I so wanted to be relevant. Simple exchange— bouquets of wheat. My dirt-stained hands, tangled hair. I never could be prim, in apple-pie order. I dropped all the eggs, licking their smear off my hands; wrinkled her ribbons into my pocket, tore pages from her books, all for the sake of the lonely hour.

carefully folded, swooned, postpartum posthaste— my letter to you, I gave— curious, you said uncanny you said the color of my eyes in this light is a different shade of green said you don't eat meat but you wear leather outside the birds & inside the sun on the chair & my thighs spread & stick to the plastic & you said you loved it & the ampersand & my swoon silently inside my skirt & the ochre on the building changes to umber in the light & the tree outside is bare & I am, my foot inside my slipper my toes curled behind & ow & yes & some days are sunny days & some days are

At the age of nine, Pa drove me to the river. The pastor & deacons awaited. I donned a white robe, transparent, self-conscious of my fresh nubs. Father Jonas reached beneath me, placed a hand over my nose & mouth. I resisted. He pushed me hard until my feet released & rose to the surface, like a corpse. I cried afterward, cold & clammy, wet hair plaited back. All the men thought I was full of the Holy Ghost.

Pillows & ribbons harness barefoot friends, haughty sisters & smiles; mothers watch, snoring. Dirty Jeep, broken January; darkness steals my grief. I cannot imagine something more fragile than marriage. You held my hand. We listened to the Callas arias on our porch. You kept rewinding the love song back to the beginning to the place where she saings,Certainly not today. Leaf shadows tent walls. My tongue traces tattoos & scars. Strange shirts mingle in the dryer. Tangled sand, uncomfortable legs, wasted days spent memorizing the body I'd soon share. Bride, bridge, bridle: all signs said, Don't wife her. I have learned how to hollow beginnings, rewind homes & wedding veils. Your drool, the doorknob, clumsy knots. Today the map is mortified. In bed, polka dots, miscarriage. Weather changes leaves, fragile-making. (not even divorcing in the eyes of the law:dissolving) I remember my sorrow at finding ants housed in my mother's peonies. When we moved, the new residents tore out all her flower beds, the strawberry patch & the treehouse. I drove you there to show you. You held my hand.