of young girls imagining what they might become,
we play dress-up with costumes
we intend to sew for each other one day
and invent stories of how we might mesh
within one another’s worlds.

we rewatch that same movie,
the one where they part ways, blindly hoping
it might turn out different each time, basking 
in beginning laughter to drown out 
their valedictory phone call.

we send poems and write songs
with ambiguous pronouns— 
or the lack of any at all, 
stalling the moment the camera 
is turned towards us in secret
knitted dresses, playing
ourselves in the script no one else has touched.

we talk about the time we both
thought we’d grow up to be actresses—
when we both played ghosts
in a christmas carol spoof,
warning the disillusioned scrooge of 
how things might become
if they carry on the way they are.

and, I’m afraid to speak,
to reveal myself to you as a specter.
and I’m afraid that this will become buried
in a box of halloween-costume aspirations.
and I’m afraid that we’ve never penned down
the conclusion we sewed onto backwards seams
and I’m afraid we’ll fall to disillusionment before 
we see our dreams take center stage.

and what will you tell me 
when you call me next?

Oh, My Word! Olivia would love to hear from you after reading this poem. Leave a comment below!


Oh, My Word! is a weekly updated blog featuring fiction, poetry, drama, and essays for the world. #OhMyWordWednesday

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end rhyme adversary

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