Seven Years

by serenapotter

 Seven years ago my mother paid over 1,500 dollars to dress me as a lady on my wedding day.

“Ladies wear Cassini,” she told me,

and she bought me a grand dress,

and the most grand tiara to go along with it.

I was pregnant and she reminded me it would be improper for me to decide upon a white dress.


This dress chose me.

There are only two others like it in the world

a test dress

that never became anything more.

Wrapped in its protective sealant, preserved, for the last seven years, it had begun to yellow

upon liberation

those stains have vanished in a day.