Gunne Sax

hand-me-downs

Gunne Sax

Granddaughter, I rescued
this dress for you.
Worn for my first wedding
when I could touch the sky
then sent in a tangled heap
to a Goodwill when the
threads of that marriage unraveled.

I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.

It turned up by chance, or synchronicity, in an antique store,
years later
and bought again
when you existed only as starlight.

You may not want this dry, dusty gown.
The serpent slithers through stories.

But I offer other, better hand-me-downs.
Truth in your bones.
Sparks in your speech.
And a temple to house
your own divinity.