Flower girl in white cotton
and white petals, look at them rot
in the aisle, like bruises
on ballerina heels,
she’s all cracked callouses
and pink skirts, a porcelain doll,
she is skinny but her tears are fat as cherubs.

They let the doves out of the box and
put the pictures in,
the dust will fall like feathers,
make a veil.

And your old clothes stretch
and your new clothes shrink
and you go back to the beginning.

– Aimee Lowenstern