In what she probably wouldn’t call
her heyday, my mom worked in
a fabric store, in the notions
department, where small things
amassed into elephants, where she found
scraps and remnants—
reds, pinks, & yellows—
blooming into elegant migraines
of possibility and promise. None
of her careers were as lively
or as variegated as this one. My Barbies
wore faux feather boas and sported mod
prints on miniskirts for when they went
shopping or walking around looking leggy
and smiling. Mom liked these perks,
especially the one when she could choose
from what was destined for the bin and take
what she liked home for free. I like to think
that she thought of me and my sister
while she chose the best pieces, but it might’ve
been that she took what she liked, and if we liked
it, that was a bonus or coincidence. Our dolls
never had it much better than that.
Notions
Anne Graue is the author of a poetry collection, Full and Plum-Colored Velvet, (Woodley Press), and two chapbooks, Fig Tree in Winter (Dancing Girl Press) and Metonymy (Origami Poems Project). Her work has been featured in Sundress Publications’ Best-Dressed Blog and has appeared in Poet Lore, Verse Daily, Spoon River Poetry Review, Gargoyle, and elsewhere. She is a poetry editor for The Westchester Review.