by Daniel Weinshenker

Published in Issue No. 9 ~ October, 1997

Graffiti on chandeliers,

finger-painted diamonds

no longer sparkle.

A baby mobile hangs suspended from the ground

while Catholic schoolgirl walks

a tightrope sidewalk.

Uniform dusty, hair in braids

lapping and twisting about each other,

coming slowly undone.

White blouse

blue skirt pleated everywhere.

Inside those folds, beneath

the pressed flats, sealed

by hot steam and

spraycan starch,

curl answers.

The first time mom put them in the dryer

they shrunk.

The lint screen is full.

She’ll never look, though.

      never peel back the skin on her thighs

      never drink from the bottle

      or dig-up her grandfather’s bones.

Just remain fixed on that echo


paper maché alter boys

carousel chandelier

throwing colors round,

while tightrope walking

all the way home.

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Daniel Weinshenker is a graduate student in creative writing at CU Boulder. Amidst teaching and toiling away at something or other, he manages to tear apart human interaction, communicate somewhat frequently and, for the most part, dress himself.