Quintessentially -- poetry by Abigail E. Calimaran
on my polyester dress and
like dry ice
on my wrists.
It’s the afternoon after the party,
And now all we want to do is die.
Somewhere in suburbia,
buries her head in the sand.
I have never stumbled home at 4 a.m.
but I always think I’m blundering,
bulldozing my way to you
or through you.
Which reminds me of
the Waffle House bathroom
Which reminds me of
the time I laughed against your lips and
puked into your mouth.
I’m not a pretty drunk.
At 4:17 a.m.
I finally open the voicemail you left
in a moment of weakness I didn’t know you were capable of.
I play it thrice,
then once in slow motion,
then once at 2x speed.
It has become my favorite routine.
I used to curse your cowardice but now I’m glad
that you’re too scared to ask
for the sweatshirt you left in my car
the first time you lost control.
I used to think you were beautiful.
I’m at a Whole Foods after dark,
too broke to buy a carton of raspberries.
The blueberries are cheaper,
but I can’t even look at them without remembering
the time you pinned me to a couch
and force-fed me blueberries
until I cried.
If we ever have a do-over,
I’ll make sure we have a safe word this time:
(Something to do differently
instead of fighting the same fights
blueberry, maybe, or birthday cake
to remind us of candles and
to remind us of fire –
how we didn’t just cross the boundaries;
we burned them.
Now, I’m all-or-nothing,
and the absence of a happy medium,
the absence of a stop sign,
makes me think of absence –
missing chances &
Abigail E. Calimaran is a full-time senior and part-time pre-K gymnastics teacher who, when she is not being those things, crochets while listening to Jane Austen audiobooks, consumes nearly-lethal amounts of caffeine, and dances alone to ABBA in her room. She fantasizes about having her poetry published somewhere before she goes off to college in August or September (where, she has no idea, but she harbors dreams of escaping suburban Mississippi and unleashing her passion for learning and serving her community in the big city scene).