The Girl Who Walks Towards Me
The girl who walks towards me
with another girl, two ponytails,
snowy morning, no jacket,
senseless, sneakers without socks,
is my daughter, I realize.
I say “hi,”and she keeps moving,
even though I have the dogs,
who sniff her feet and nudge
her ripped-jeaned legs for love.
The day I quit piano lessons,
I lifted myself from the hard bench,
away from the tiny light
that hung over the ivory pages,
their dark notes,
out on to the street,
not knowing where to go.
I wandered until I saw
my mother across the street,
looking in the window
of a dress shop,
considering the mannequin
with its painted face, floral, silk dress,
cinched belt.
I did not want her to see me
as I had not made up the story yet
of how I would live my life without
piano once a week,
but I walked towards her
in her plaid pants, camel jacket,
and she looked at me,
as if she did not know who I was.
a sudden stranger, and she smiled
and I thought we might escape together
down the street and into the world,
without being each other.
with another girl, two ponytails,
snowy morning, no jacket,
senseless, sneakers without socks,
is my daughter, I realize.
I say “hi,”and she keeps moving,
even though I have the dogs,
who sniff her feet and nudge
her ripped-jeaned legs for love.
The day I quit piano lessons,
I lifted myself from the hard bench,
away from the tiny light
that hung over the ivory pages,
their dark notes,
out on to the street,
not knowing where to go.
I wandered until I saw
my mother across the street,
looking in the window
of a dress shop,
considering the mannequin
with its painted face, floral, silk dress,
cinched belt.
I did not want her to see me
as I had not made up the story yet
of how I would live my life without
piano once a week,
but I walked towards her
in her plaid pants, camel jacket,
and she looked at me,
as if she did not know who I was.
a sudden stranger, and she smiled
and I thought we might escape together
down the street and into the world,
without being each other.
May / June 2023
Elizabeth Crowell grew up in northern New Jersey and has a B.A. from Smith College in English Literature and an M.F.A. in Creative Writing/Poetry from Columbia University. She taught college and high school English for many years. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Pangryus, New English Review, 34th Parallel, Pinhole, Peregrine and others. She has twice been the winner of The Bellevue Literary Review non-fiction prize and was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize in poetry. She lives outside of Boston with her wife and teenage children.
Art: Jennifer Peart. Skyward Lodge, acrylic on canvas paper, 7.5”x5”