Need to free the butterfly from memory, 
the one I murdered while jumping rope 
over sixty years ago—enough already! 

			Mary Jo and I slept as far apart as the bed 
			allowed whenever we shared a bed. 
			What were we afraid of? 

Sorry, very sorry, I neglected to question 
my aunt about her infant son and survival 
in the camps. Her number was 13088. 

			The child felt sure there were no regrets 
			when it came to her memories of Dad. 
			On reflection, they surfaced—so she was wrong. 

She savored a fine glass of pinot noir, 
lit candles and listened to Billie Holiday music, 
but she ached to hug her parents one more time. 

			Once upon a time stones were placed 
			on strangers’ graves by a young girl. 
			This aging woman now stays far away. 

The girl hid behind the mother. 
She listened and for a while obeyed. 
Yet she never heard the woman until too late. 

			The creaking sound of old oak, 
			the Macy’s escalator struggling up, 
			the descent of The Cyclone at Coney. 
			And my magnet on every freakin’ refrigerator 
			ever owned—Life is a series of ups and downs. 

Publisher’s Note:

For a performance of “Used ’Ta Could,” see Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, with Wynton Marsalis and featuring bassist Christian McBride (link retrieved on 19 December 2022):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1xsvgP7NSU

Julie Standig

A lifetime New Yorker, Julie Standig now writes with two amazing poetry groups, Marie Kane’s KT and the Stalwart Poets. She has been published in Alehouse Press, Sadie Girl Press, After Happy Hour Review, Schuylkill Journal Review, US1 Poets/Del Val, and Gyroscope Review, as well as online journals. Her first chapbook, Memsahib Memoir, was released by Plan B Press in 2017, and Kelsay Books released her collection The Forsaken Little Black Book in October 2022. She lives in Bucks County, PA with her husband and their springer spaniel.

Author’s website: julie.standig.com