After Tracy K Smith
I spent six months not wearing
College t-shirts so she’d smile.
Wearing, instead, my best dresses
Or steamed jeans. Anything to
Diminish my accomplishments.
Gradually, it felt like a tightrope act,
which meant it was time to leave.
Two months later, I saw her
Posing in a yard, lacy red socks,
Blue checked dress, eyeliner dots
Along crow’s feet. Five bows, total.
So happy it leaked out of her pores,
Pooled in muddy grass. I saw her
And it felt like the first time. Back before
You existed to me, you were a theory.
Now I know everything: your favorite FNAF
Game theory video. Your fascination with
Disney World mechanics—magic with a
Science. There is a colored pencil version
Of your will in my sock drawer:
This is what we mean by sharing a life. Still,
From time to time, I think of her watching me
Over brown rimmed glasses, smudged from
Her car’s cup holders. She called it the Batmobile.
But mostly what I see is a human hand,
Reaching out to poke a freckle on my cheek.
Abbey Ella (she/her) is a writer currently attending Sarah Lawrence College in New York. What the Living Do by Marie Howe is the book that sparked her love for writing. Her pieces have been published in Elan Literary Magazine, Words with Weight Magazine, Palette, Luxury Literature Magazine, Jardin Zine, and Blue Marble Review.