Pink

By
I am partial to the triangular
space behind the couch
in my grandmother’s living room where I sit
with my flamingo pink plastic suitcase,
miniature notebooks with puppies adorning the covers,
and Lisa Frank stickers,
playing make believe with the fading sea green back of the couch
as my backdrop.
To my old stuffed bunny,
the color of coffee when mixed with just enough cream.
Stomach once white and smooth,
the texture of a brand new Barbie doll’s hair,
now tinted grey and curled up in all directions.
Bow, still pink,
but frayed on the edge, threads unraveling
one row at a time like the fancy stockings I snagged
on the edge of the pew last Christmas.





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