melancholia magnolia
shotgun.
wedding. beer.
gunshot
southern nights
stories of my foremothers
2 shotguns
2 weddings
2 babies
2 teenage girls
who
got themselves
pregnant
who would they have been
doctor
accountant
or not
but they never got to try
I wouldn’t exist
without their
entrapment
institutionalization
into marriage
one remains
high school sweethearts
a night
a wedding
pillbox hat
she only has one photo
same as her prom
posed/grinning
a baby
another
‘you can sleep
when you’re dead’
her pretty hands
raw and reddened
strong
for the family
she has
fed
built
grown
with hands
and always
a smile
grandchildren
tall and strong
She
serves them
servant-hearted
She
makes the sweet tea
retreats
to her kitchen
does she regret?
she loves him
saved his life
whipsmart and strong
his wife
his savior
they are happy
and sweet
but when she
watches hallmark movies and cries
takes her perfect notes
does she feel
regret?
or just a little
wistful wonder?
I know I would
I wish i had
courage
to ask her
I have no regrets
too young
untested
green
to have made choices
that matter
southern girl
this is me
I didn’t know
until I met others
outsiders
not trained
in meemaw’s biscuits
matching dresses
watching boys
play football
pretty bows
the art of
saying nothing
chatting
socialite
twisting yourself
to fit what they want
y’all
I thought I was the oddball
free spirit
now I know
I still live
in the heart-shaped box
my mothers and I built
with our own hands
