Nancy Scott

DRESS-UP

Someone gave my mother the mink stole
and when I asked to touch it,
she said yes.
And when I asked to wear it
in my bedroom for a few minutes,
she said yes.

It was the only time I wanted
the mirror to be a mirror
and not an inconvenient
piece of glass
that trapped my unseeable hand-prints'
accidental passage.

I was six but I somehow knew
about parading back and forth
in front of mirrors
that would reflect me
back to me without
my knowing what they saw.

Later, I would learn
to be grateful not to see
my cloud-eyed image in mirrors.
Later, I would learn
the mink wasn't real.

Nancy Scott, Easton PA, is an essayist and poet. Her over-480 bylines have appeared in magazines, literary journals, anthologies and newspapers, and as audio commentaries. Her recent work has appeared in Kaleidoscope, The Lutheran Journal, The Sun, and Behind Our Eyes anthology. She received First Prize in the 2009 International Onkyo Braille Contest