uncloaked the guise. I wrapped
them in satin ribbons and bows. And so,
they glowed under that shine. But they
were not mine. I painted them in

watercolor memories. But the colors
all ran and left a stain through the purple
misty rain. And I drank that rain in a cup. Drank
it all till I filled up. Floating in the banks of

pain. Rolling down the levee. I'd no
idea yesterday is so heavy. I carried it
on my back.  I unpacked it with my blouse
and skirts, pants and boots for the worse. I've

stuffed in my bedroom drawer. Screamed
at it. I made it an outlaw! I don't dress it like
the turkey. I don't cover it in gravy like the
mashed potatoes. No, yesterday I serve raw -
I thaw it out the night before.