by MILLICENT BORGES ACCARDI
The clothing all fit perfectly,
Especially a red cape made by
A specific woman for her
Less than specific daughter.
There was an unruly journey
And a patted cake with a minute
pot of yellow, whipped butter
peaceful as a softened heart.
There was a wild beast
of a tallish bad-mannered
man who said, “I’ll go this way,
my dear and and you go that.”
There was a long illness,
Sort of like the flu or scarlet
Fever. There was a plain wooden
armoire and a grandmother.
This will end badly I think
we all know, don’t we?
“Watch your back.”
the girl’s mother said.
Before the journey she
Cautioned, “the world is not
Always kind.” This story is also
about a bed and a zippered knife
With a blood gauge. I warn you,
no one here is left to discuss
the legal terms, or the details of
what might have happened.
Later the village people will puzzle
About the incident, and they will
ask after the grandmother,
“Did she live far? And “Was it dark
when her journey began?”
ABOUT THE POET: Millicent Borges Accardi, a Portuguese-American writer, has published four books, including her just-published book Only More So (Salmon Poetry Press). She has received fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, CantoMundo, Fulbright, and the California Arts Council. Her website is www.millicentborgesaccardi.com and she’s on Twitter at @TopangaHippie.
Photo © 2013 Martin Brigden