“Whoops” by Marilyn Sears Bourbon

Children roll out like oranges
from doorways,
you appear, neck slashed
by a red scarf.
Ugly matrons full of advice
yank their fleshy stockings by the band
then pour the principal’s coffee.

Your mother half expects you to have caught
your scarf in a wheel
garland of itchy regrets
her petticoats frozen
her hair stiff.
You retreat into your peel.
Poor little orange.

Your father comes home
throat stitched to his collar
gurgling into a martini
tossing olives at the dog.

That envelope in the attic, dust,
your father beating the days,
your dollhouse like ashes.
Everything is used, even the roses.

Your mother stares at the ceiling
listening to the house pleat.
She has only lent you her face,
yours is on tiptoe
waiting for an invitation.

Gay Giordano earned her BA from Carnegie Mellon University in creative writing and her MA in philosophy at The New School for Social Research. She has been published in Mudfish, Ghost Ocean Magazine, The Lullwater Review, Illya’s Honey, The South Carolina Review, The Oakland Review and other journals. She has been a resident at VCCA, The Martha’s Vineyard Writer’s Residency, the Banff Center for the Arts, Bennington College, and the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony. She lives in New York City with her husband, with whom she co- translates German-language plays and aphorisms.

Read our interview with Gay here.