And now, when I summon up 
	that hamper in my parents’ room, 

what do I seek to resurrect if not 
	the daydreams I inhabited 

in that shadowed space? 
	I want them back—

those idle thoughts 
	of the duration I could stay 

safely hidden, and of how 
	good the special silence there. 

Good too, those ripe, 
	familiar smells of my 

parents—their underwear co-
	mingling without shouts or swearing. 

I want it back—that proximity 
	to my mother’s closet, where 

at least six shirtwaist dresses 
	waited for me to steal among 

them and stow my longing between 
	plaids and floral patterns. Then, 

like an afterthought—behind all 
	those coats and crisp white blouses—

that taffeta gown with its rainbow 
	sheen I’d never seen her wear, 

its cool, deep folds holding the perfume 
	of who she’d been before I knew her. 

Laura Ann Reed

taught modern dance and ballet at the University of California, Berkeley prior to working in the capacity of leadership development trainer at the San Francisco headquarters of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.

Her poetry has been anthologized in How To Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope and is forthcoming in the anthologies SMEOP (HOT) and The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace and Renewal. Her poems have appeared in Loch Raven, MacQueen’s Quinterly, One Art, SWWIM, The Ekphrastic Review, The Grey Sparrow, and Willawaw, among other journals. Her chapbook, Shadows Thrown, is forthcoming from Sungold Editions in February 2023. A San Francisco Bay Area native, Laura resides with her husband in western Washington.

Author’s website: https://www.lauraannreedpoet.com/