packing
my blue bag
pocketing
my lipstick
turning my back
to Brentwood

I’m on my way home.

Brooklyn beckons
as it always did
as it always does
Hudson River
city parks
a cacophony of languages
a melting pot

She’s on her way too.

by air
not track

her trunk
packed
by strangers
shipped

light
with flip-flops
a blouse
a skirt
poor
practical
that would be her

Occasionally I’d seen her laugh.

I’m
on my way
train grumbling
wheels screeching
town
upon town
Flatbush- a hub
and my stop

and there was my aunt
and there was my mother
and there was the news

Teresa Margaret
is on her way home
shipped
from Florida
on a DC10

stored
along with her trunk
a girl in a wooden box
in a cargo hold

a poor cold girl
Colder bullet in her head.

© 2017, poem, Jamie Dedes; photo courtesy of Linda Allardice, Public Domain Pictures.net.

3 thoughts on “A Girl in a Box

  1. You’ve said so much in this piece. Anyone who has experienced the pain of losing someone close will be able to read the sorrow between the lines. It’s a somewhat surreal experience, even so many years later; it can be hard to process and you never ‘get over it’, it just becomes a part of who you are. I’m so very sorry for your loss, Jamie. It changes a person.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Heartbreakingly beautiful, Jamie. This was a five tissue poem. The pain of the death of a loved one never fully dissipates. My heart is reaching out to yours. Thank you for sharing so eloquently. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

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