my blue bag
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
by strangers

with flip-flops
a blouse
a skirt
that would be her

Occasionally I’d seen her laugh.

on my way
train grumbling
wheels screeching
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
from Florida
on a DC10

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

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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