A man in a suit approached and touched my arm. Would I pose in front of the merry-go-round? I was thirteen, free for an hour, in the middle of Paramus Park Mall, in America. I was America. The man was leading a tour; the tourists spoke no English. My English mother once said, Your sister is beautiful, but you are reasonably attractive. She chose my clothes, that day a blouse abuzz with tiny flowers, a pink pleated skirt. Yes, I said, and sat on the bench. Everybody smiled. My hair curled like orchid petals. A malicious carousel horse whispered, Why would they point their cameras at you? As if you were pretty. This will be a story, I replied. Of glass eyes, blind, that saw bloom in me.
Lesley Wheeler’s newest books are The State She's In, her fifth poetry collection, and Unbecoming, her first novel. Her collection of hybrid essays, Taking Poetry Personally, will appear in 2021. Recent work appears or is forthcoming in Massachusetts Review, Kenyon Review Online, Ecotone, Gettysburg Review, and other journals. Poetry Editor of Shenandoah, she lives in Virginia and blogs about poetry at lesleywheeler.org.
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