Ballerina Lamp
She lit up my room.
No one remembers her
but me. Her grace
underneath a lacy shade.
She was ballerina-tall,
one hand behind her
head. Lavishly dressed
next to a quintessential pic
of Jesus and his sacred heart.
This old slide of mine
scratched and castigated,
but I found her
as if the doll was a cold case
and I surveyed the scene.
I eyed the evidence. She appeared
when I wasn’t looking.
I implore you to check out
your old photos. Just like
an old movie, there will be
finds. Time after time.
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