Wedding Dress at Home
About Your Mother’s Wedding Dress
by Esther Rohm

The apartment husk still holds the shape
of our life gutted out, left now with only rubbish
and my wedding dress. The dress hangs
bereaved in the closet. I plan to forget it.
(If you can lie by omission, can you steal by giving?
By leaving something unwanted? I feel the sly
thrill of possible crime.) Choice was not my
birthright. I’d bought this for its price, hid it
from my own eyes after it fell off and I sank
from bride to wife. We never had a chance. I mean
the dress and me. See, I’m warding off the question
you may never ask. Boys aren’t nostalgic
over that. And if you have a sister, if she wants
to have my dress, I’ll just tell her I lost it.

PHOTO: “Wedding Dress” by photographmd, used by permission.


NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: On the heels of my husband’s brain surgery and the birth of our first child, we were evicted. I stood in our empty bedroom at the end of that move and felt a lot of things. As I stared at the wedding dress I’d tried to forget in the back of my closet, I decided to abandon it there. I’ve never regretted doing that.

PHOTO: The author and her first child after the move the wedding dress didn’t make (Fairborn, Ohio 2001).

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Esther Rohm
is fascinated by human beings. She writes poetry, fiction, and fantasy while undercover as an office worker. Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she was kidnaped by mischievous sprites and deposited in Ohio, where she continues to live. Her writing has appeared in Dime Show Review, and she is one of 35 authors featured in A Journey of Words (Scout Media, 2016).