Her sister is so beautiful, she thinks & tugs a little on the hem of her dress, Crosses & uncrosses her legs & hovers again over her DMs.
THE NEXT YOUNGEST DAUGHTER BY JR BARNER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 114
The paneling in this place is either oak or hemlock
But she can’t tell the difference,
Tucked away
With downturned gaze & scoliosis slouch,
Illuminated only by her phone’s unflattering light.
Her parents dance some distance away
To some seventies R&B hit
Dashed out by the half-drunk college kid on the
Bösendorfer in the corner.
Her younger sister clamoring on about
Boogie-boarding that afternoon
With a petite blonde from Bowness-on-Windermere
While she tanned alone on the beach.
God, she wishes, half-out-loud,
To be that innocent again.
To be less self-conscious, less riddled with doubt,
Her eyes drift, as if pushed along by a gentle breeze,
Around the dancing silhouettes,
At the bar, her brother-in-law, with a measured
Balance of indolence & arrogance,
Alternatively mews & stage whispers to her
Eldest sister about low testosterone & cryptocurrencies.
It’s little wonder that she’s already on her third prosecco
& they haven’t yet been
Called to dinner.
Her sister is so beautiful, she thinks
& tugs a little on the hem of her dress,
Crosses & uncrosses her legs & hovers again over her DMs.
It’s not that she likes her body, but at least now,
At this age, she’s aware of it.
Aware of its inherent power adrift amid the
Ubiquitous & persistent male gaze.
But she still doesn’t want it—any of it.
She’s read (just) enough Nabokov to know where
This is all heading.
Unconsciously (Nervously? But of what she’s not sure)
Her finger rings around the rim
Of the glass of undrunk
Champagne her father brought her &
As her eyes come to rest on the fireplace
& it’s warm, inviting glow,
She comes to a conclusion.
JR BARNER
My first poem was my first publication. When I was nine the teacher had us children spin a color wheel to select a color to write about. I came back to class from the restroom to find that all of the colors had been chosen except for brown. My first ever literary output An Ode to Brown was published in the end of term yearbook. More recently I’m the proud author of the chapbooks Burnt Out Stars, Thirteen Poems, and a selection of my poetry spanning nearly 30 years in Little Eulogies. jrbarner@gmail.com PayPal.Me/jrbarner