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photo: Daniel A. Anderson

Poem of the Week

Glitter

You have a daughter now. It’s everywhere,
And often in the company of glue.
You can’t get rid of it. It’s in her hair:
A wink of pink, a glint of silver blue.
It’s catching, like the chicken pox, or lice.
It travels, like a planetary scar.
Sometimes it’s on your face, or you look twice,
And glimpse, there on your arm, a single star.
You know it by a hand’s brushing your neck—
You blush—it’s not desire, not anymore—
Just someone’s urge to flick away the fleck
Of borrowed glamour from your collarbone—
The broken mirror that Time won’t restore,
The way your daughter marks you as her own.

— A.E. Stallings