Updated: Jul 31, 2022
Dear Young Woman With The Press-On Eyelashes
It’s just the two of us, waiting
masked for the shuttle. I’m headed
to Albuquerque, home after a bittersweet
trip to my ailing aunt and her (much) younger
predator-caregiver, his girlfriend, son,
daughter-in-law, two grandkids, an unhoused friend
and a school of fish, all in her three-bedroom
ranch home between strawberry fields
and a golf course. You have no baggage,
not even a purse, just your phone above which
that inky fringe frames your indigo
oceans. Maybe your boyfriend awaits
with your carry-ons, or maybe you work
at Starbucks or Hudson News. You show no panic
at pandemic travel. During my visit he said
he wanted to rip out the bookshelves, install
a shark tank that’ll swallow the living room wall.
Have you ever had that happen? Lose someone
as she swam out of your arms? You look
barely beyond twenty but I bet you know
sorrow. Your Converse make me think you’d never
wreck the built-ins, but your lashes tell me
you'll be the one to leave.
Cheryl Slover-Linett (she/her) is a poet based in Santa Fe, NM. Her poetry is featured or forthcoming in Eunoia Review, River Mouth Review and Haiku Journal and she serves on the editorial team at High Desert Journal. In addition to writing, she leads wilderness retreats through Lead Feather, the nature non-profit she founded in 2008, and spends as much time as she can in the high desert mountains of northern New Mexico. Learn more about Cheryl’s work at www.leadfeather.org.