Where I’m From – Molly Stanek

I am from tomato cages,

from Kool-aid Points and a banana-shaped pool on a stone patio.

I am from the pages concealed between the covers.

(“Goodnight!” – then, lit by flashlight,

stolen passages sparked alive.)

I am from transplanted pale pink prairie roses,

from the Russian olive

whose silvery sweet blossoms’ scent

haunted the summer twilight.

I’m from sun dresses and garden slugs,

from Garnet and Great-aunt Sally.

I’m from biker women

and bookworms,

from Go play outside! and Take your sister with you!

I’m from On the night on which He was betrayed,

the passing of the loosely bundled just baked loaf

and my fingers breaking embodied bread.

I’m from the chilling breezes of Lake Michigan and the balloons of Vollrath Bowl,

Sun sweetened backyard peas-in-the-pod

and all the penny-candy a dime from the Tooth Fairy could buy.

From the pain of parents forced to Grow Up too soon

determined to prevent the repetition of painfilled pasts.

I am from Molly, Mary, Frank and ?

written in the newly poured pavement

the night preceding Betsy’s birth.

I am from those moments-

bright flashes lighting my page-

author- as I pen the present.