in my child room I am
layered by snow I can’t take
with me each porcelain
cup from granny brass
animals a bear a box
of initials diary describing
blush made fake made banned
cursive collection of
teeth foreign money five spoons
a family a history
not mine yet
mine in writing in
build up of white
of take each link of silver
connected I am soldered
to all this
do we choose linkage I love
and miss granny and do not
miss history dibsing furniture
from home northward
a distance unshoeable
when I fly midwest
for the cold time my once room
begs the echo
when will you stop leaving
things behind.
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Lila Cutter writes poetry and nonfiction in Oakland and previously, in Iowa. Her work reflects on identity, and femininity and has appeared in Buddy. A Lit Zine., Oatmeal Magazine, and Porch Beers Zine, among others. Lila works at the education nonprofit 826 Valencia, supporting youth in creative writing.