PoW: Class of 2020 by Radikha Freya Anjani

Class of 2020

I could’ve felt her satin kiss,
her beaded edges and mercurial grace that flies past my greatest enemies
The light mirrored from her shiny surface collapsing inside my eyes in the dark as I stumble to the loo looking for sobriety
She would’ve been the ticket out of the image I was pushed into the whole three years of torture
She would’ve been my femme fatale for the night
Yet she remains in my vision board and in my sleep where I dream of a normal outcome of reality
Where the world didn’t end and the people remained alive
Her majesty never even made it to the tailor’s table
My waist never got to be sized
And the red lipstick lets itself be only lightly dabbed before turning on my camera for class
When it should’ve been applied fearlessly for a night I would’ve remembered until my olden days
She remains in the version of my youth’s closure where I got to dance with my sweetheart
and the girls that have been through my worst and best and everything in between
She remains;
The prom dress that never got to be made

Author’s commentary: I originally titled it “class of 2020” just for the sake of giving it a title, but the surprise is the poem’s title is at the last line. 

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