The Lives of My Childhood
       

are paper dolls from a book of Civil War
Southern Belles, in sea-green brocade

ball gowns. Looped hair and leg-of-mutton
sleeves. Pantaloons like walking clouds.

They went with men in gray uniforms
and swords to dance. I made them go.

The gowns slipped over their white and pink
chemises. The corseted stays. My scissors

were patience itself, cutting the gowns.
The hat with peacock feathers. The tiny fan.

After the ball I took off their clothes.
The bonnets with flowers and ribbons.

I folded back the tabs of their long
nightgowns over their paper bodies.

The lace nightcaps. Under the gown
hems were pairs of satin slippers.

I did not even need to look. The souls
of the paper dolls counted on that—

slept in their paper folder as I slept.

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Copyright © 2020 Hannah VanderHart All rights reserved
from Cherry Tree
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission