Inside the box, a puddle of pearl.
When lifted by its thread-thin straps, it cascaded
into the form of a negligee gown.
She said she bought it decades ago for her trip to Hong Kong,
where she visited my grandfather during his deployment.
I was embarrassed by the slightness,
the sheer layer of lace to cover the bust,
but I kept stroking its silk all the same.
She nudged him, look, don’t you remember? My Grandfather
made some remark, or maybe it was meant to be a joke—
I don’t remember.
I was busy listening to the fabric as it slid
its smooth entreaty into my fingers,
a vintage slip of love, promising to bring me
the kind of luck I was suddenly aware of wanting.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 5.
Annie Przypyszny is a poet from Washington, DC pursuing an MFA in Poetry at the University of Maryland. She has poems published or forthcoming in Bear Review, Jet Fuel Review, Cola Literary Review, Tampa Review, Atticus Review, Tupelo Quarterly, The Main Street Rag, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, SoFloPoJo, and others.
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