Two Poems from Taylor Copeland
In your face, the brightness of spring
the honeybees infatuated with stamen
the rolling hills of countryside in
the South. Your hugs are a remedy.
I watch the lightness of your step,
hear the sound of your name in the air
like some perfect smell in a bakery,
a lovingly created piece of perfect
that I could never be. A sister,
but not. The one person who I can
tell I love and never regret it.
The voice that comforts my hysterical
sobbing. The part of my blood that
I can't live without.
You notice the fraying band,
the lace around the top.
Maybe it got caught in the washer,
stuck on the giant plastic middle
and twisted around until something
just gave and tore it.
It's another pair that can go
in the trash. It doesn't matter.
Panties are easily replaceable.
Now, the bras are a different story.
When you find one that fits just right,
when it slips around the curves of
your breasts, you treasure it.
You hold onto it until you absolutely
have to part with it.
No girl has the time to stand around
and be measured, and I don't think
it would work. You see, you have to
wear it, walk in it, pass out in the
driver's side of your car on your
break from work in it.
So when the black bra that has gone
through cycle after cycle and perked
you up and supported you for so long,
the one you wear more than any other
is found stuck in your dryer,
the clasp impossibly embedded in a groove,
you try desperately to release it from
the clutches of the big, metal savage
until that one awkward pull rips the
fabric and you cry out in disbelief,
drop to your knees and sigh.
Taylor Copeland is a Pennsylvania native, now living in Minnesota. She is the founder and co-editor of Decompression. She most recently has been published in Chantarelle's Notebook, Hobo Camp Review, The Active Voice and Work to a Calm. She has been nominated for Best of the Web in 2010 and Best of the Net in 2010 and 2011. She loves the band Paramore, reads
obsessively, likes pink things, drinks too much coffee, drives aimlessly and falls in love too easily. She is unashamed of all of it.