ROsy Chamber

Grace Yanucci | Spring 2022

How peculiar that a childhood will
Dissolve,
A glass filled with a dulcet lullaby.
Ballet slippers, glazed pink, warm white cotton,
A bedroom veiled in fog.
Lodged sweetly in the corner of an imagination,
A substance stirred, slowly diluted,
Adulterated.
A woman of gauze and mist
looks behind her
A ghost of dispersing components,
Because age is like sugar water.