My aunt would wear strawberry
lip gloss while toting a bubblegum
clutch on the Norfolk shoreline.
Bent over, she scoured for lady
slipper shells. This one would
make a fun earring! Had my eyes
been closed, I would have
felt the vibrations of her smile
like confetti bursting from a can.
One night, she asked why I wore
a long tee over my bathing suit.
I have my mother’s thighs, I explained,
matter-of-factly. Her mascara smeared
to form a Rorschach around
crow’s feet. She clarified,
No, darling, you have her shame.
