Poetry Issue 15

   Issue #17 : July-December 2012

Aditi Machado



from THE ROBING OF THE BRIDE


      I

      THEY LINED UP, OPRHANS IN THE OLIVE
      GARDEN


      I was wearing a dress red as surgery. All my friends had come
      to the clearing, Lucia among them. We were eight years old.

      I stood before the mob of us
      and said a prayer.

      Each girl stepped forward as if drawn
      from a flip book.

      ‘Take this,’ I might have said, and they took
      and turned back and blurred.

      After, they debated the taste of the chip I had given them.
      One said yellow. One said salt. One said god. The rest nodded.
      It was a Sunday; the evening was getting low. We played
      and played. I took off my berry dress and everyone wore it in turn.