They called her Jean; her name was Margaret, a poem by Jessica Fiegehen

 

Tulips were her favourite. 

Reds, yellows, and purples 

Even years removed,

They still hurt to look at. 

Her garden was full of trails, 

Bushes and stones

Fairy petals curled around wrinkled vines,

Their withering took less than a month.

Around the little stream, he built me a fairy house 

Acorns for chairs, pinecones for placemats,

He promised me pixies would move in,

But only when I wasn’t looking.

Browning petals fell to her slate tiles, 

Weeds growing between the stone 

And crawling with ants.

A dozen feathered boa hats,

Hidden under caramel core bedsheets.

Boxes of teddy bears placed above her sewing machine, 

And a cart full of acrylic paints.

He didn’t have the heart to throw them out, so—

They came home with me instead.

Holes in the walls from a cracking acorn frame, 

Piles of gauze falling off a shelf.

Cigarette smoke and Chinese stress balls, 

Peeling cream cabinets,

And a green “go away” sign hung on her door.

Eulogy tucked into a chipped desk. 

Purple tulips beside the lamp

He has no teeth,

And his jaw cracks when he mouths

Jean. 

_________

Jessica Fiegehen is a second year Creative Writing and Publishing student at Sheridan College.