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Class of 1981

Crinoline filaments

Rolling over and over

Mid-flight the ochre velvet ribbons sailed to the left

Instead of to the right

Two feet retreating

But with one shoe on

 

Memory returns

For a few seconds of

the calamity

At that private house in Paris

She’d tumbled down the central staircase

Sailing with legs overhead

until she stopped miraculously with her ***

at the shining leather toes of the footman.

He kept his head up.

She wore a beautiful dress.

Her hair was quite precise and she hoped that that would be a sufficient enough apology towards an empty silence.

 

But this isn’t that.

I shoved her.

And she went willingly. They all do.

We’re roughly a group of fifty-three.

 

Gathering in the last few years

Whispering over drinks

of tumors

And vascular difficulties

Of pills and appointments and forgetfulness

They never mentioned that

In those climate controlled rooms with

Blackboards covered in Latin and Trigonometry

Of the body’s failure.

Now there’s no longer any mention made of the kids

or whether or not that husband was worth the bother

 

Did we notice atop

The balance beam not a peep was mentioned

About the moment when you can no longer walk or stand?

That the brain asks please but the body will not comply?

How cool the marbled floor feels against your cheek while you lay for hours in your own feces?

One can rest comfortably knowing at long last that that wallpaper was the right choice.

Kept one really engaged while waiting and waiting for someone.

And that is just the beginning, right?

 

Perhaps some assumed that the end would come with a daily circle reviewing the contents of their chamber ***

Grimacing and worn

While they recline in white nightclothes

Something akin to what they saw on the BBC

 

Perhaps a startled disquiet at the rebuke of their intent and gamely stares from a premiere specialist in Switzerland

an expert in alternative therapies

for what someone dared call

terminal

Anyway, this is quicker.

 

So we’ve come together

As sisters

And when the time is right I get the call

We go onto the roof

There’s an elevator now because

Otherwise that wouldn’t work

And one by one

In small batches

They are dispatched

It doesn’t take as long as you would think

We are confident and have agency

We were taught that we could do anything

And they are right.

 

The ones with a lot of metal can be a bit tricky

They have balance issues

But are always chic and always polite

There was a time when we were forced to be together when we clearly did not want to.

We never thought as one.

Some families are better than others.

But everything is different now

 

One day it will be my turn and

I wonder who will deliver me?

And what shall I wear?

Will I try to see where I’m going or will I rest comfortably in my finale.

 

I adore the way the wind catches the cloth.

How the crystalline beads are removed around the neck and handed over

so as not to add to any distraction

Or delay

The pinky coral mouthed “Thank you” and

And the sweet eyes that once were bright and shining say their

Goodbyes

Rippling

twirling

looping

interweaving

cascading

Down.

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Written by
swiggins
F / Los Angeles
Published
Aug 16, 2018
Lines·Words
86·549
Tags
#old#age#private#school#suicide
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