Three Graces - Edward Burne-Jones
by Daniel Weinshenker
Grafitti 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 organ, paper mache alter boys carousel chandelier throwing colors round, while tightrope walking all the way home.