Lamplighter
My mother buys me things to sit in drawers
saying even if you don’t like it, keep it
She purchases something at a closing
of the store where she picked an outfit
worn to witness my marriage by the river
an accidental metaphor for the ways
we change yet remain in the same bed
Put it in your dresser, she writes in a text
Pull it out sometimes, remember
I read the words behind her words
Pull it out sometimes, remember
how I raised you, lying back-to-back in bed
in the absence of anyone else’s care
Know how many times I wanted to buy
you a world I could not afford
so instead lit oil lamps
which fascinated and danced
before your child-eyes
Please hold onto the memories
of their flames once I’m gone
and I’ve left them all to you
Kalyn RoseAnne studies medical anthropology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She self-published her first book, High Wire Darlings, in 2014 and her writing has appeared in Wildness Journal, Hooligan Magazine, and The Talking Book. She lives with her partner and their dog Mage, who is a German Shepherd/Gremlin mix. You can find her on twitter @kalynroseanne.