Spring 2022 Poetry Contest – Honorable Mention
My sister and I are beginning to inherit
the lightning blond crabgrasses and balding planes
of our father and mother’s wealth.
They sneak these to us:
recipes for deviled ham, ticket stubs from Broadway, a mermaid’s compass
from my grandmother’s house.
They began as little gifts —
hidden next to the chocolate in our stockings, wedged like mints through mail,
stuffed into pockets when we’re hugging to say goodbye —
but soon —
a hundred-dollar bill stuffed into a children’s book, my car’s lease paid off,
plane flights free with all-inclusive cruises.
It felt lonely
spotting their hopeful eyes studying us
for approval, then disappearing
with the snowbirds to the Florida coast;
to the condos tiled
a pearl’s weak white and the pinks forgetful
as the crush of receding shores. They’re waiting there.
They’ve even made up a spare bed in their studio for me.
My father proudly announces
my name is in the lease. He explains
it’ll be so simple. When I arrive at the gate, I can just flash my ID.
They’ll show me where to go.