(a temporal study)
They ripped that dress he loved so much, the one
with slits up to her hips, neckline down
to her navel. The one she wore that night with
the fuck me shoes in the middle of October; before
the first snowfall and during the last downpour.
The one she wore that night he drove six hours
in the rain, just to fall at her feet, naked
while she did the dishes in a haze of Christmas lights
in October. He promised her then –
tucking her hair behind her ear then fucking her
when she knelt down to kiss him –
He promised her then that three years later she’d
never be now. She remembers how
he promised her then, forever when
she was elbow deep in dishes and dreaming
of a better life – drowning in October.
It isn’t until she sticks that picture on her mirror –
(that one they took that night she wore that dress
he loved so much) –
that she sees then facing her
now and remembers when
she stopped feeling December the same way.
Hollay Ghadery currently lives in Kingston, Ontario where she works as a writer and has recently enrolled in a stained glass class. Her mother is afraid she’ll poison herself but she thinks it’s a necessary distraction from eBay. Since graduating from Queen’s University with her BAH in English Literature, Hollay has been published in the The Queen’s Feminist Review, Kiss Machine and most recently, A Celebration of Kingston Poets.