Poetry Friday: "Ghost of Girlhood Past"

I am happy to announce a poem publication:  "The Ghost of Girlhood Past" in pacificReview for their "Atlantis and Other Lost Places" issue.  I submitted it in January of 2022, and although I check Submittable regularly, I didn't find out it had been accepted until very late in the process.

Yes, Submittable should send communication to my e-mail, and I've checked the settings to verify that I have it set up that way.  But it's been years since it happened.  Usually it's not a big deal; I'll get to the notice of rejections when I get to them.  

Happily, I discovered the acceptance in time for the publication of the poem to move forward, although it was too late for a contributor's bio.  And last week, when I returned to my mountain home, I picked up a copy of the journal.  It's beautiful, complete with art in color.

I first got the idea for this poem from a Halloween costume I created in 2019, a costume created out of my bridal veil, a childhood doll, and a string of battery operated Christmas lights.  During the festive time at school, I walked the halls saying, "I am the Ghost of Girlhood Past.  Look on me and beware."  It was fun.

Throughout the day, I thought about this character I created and started to jot down specifics.  What would the Ghost of Girlhood Past represent?  What are the lost dreams and plans?  How to capture the regrets?  Are there regrets?  I thought back to Charles Dickens and his Christmas version of this ghost.

Eventually this poem emerged:

Ghost of Girlhood Past


I am the ghost of girlhood past.
I carry your childhood books
about resilient heroines in borderland
spaces. Once you dreamed of migrations,
whether to new prairies or distant planets.
Now you define
yourself as stuck.

I am the ghost of girlhood past
with a wedding veil over my hair.
Would you have dreamed of different
choices had you known?

I am the ghost of girlhood past.
I hold your dolls, loved into permanent grubbiness.
You dreamed of children
of your own. What happened?

I am the ghost of girlhood past
dressed in the clothes of your parents.
What will you construct
Out of these castaways?
I teeter on heels that are too big
for me. When, exactly, do you plan
to fill these shoes?

I am the ghost of girlhood past.
I do not hold financial statements or an affordable
mortgage. I cannot offer work-life
balance. I hold a jar of discarded
dreams, but I cannot tell
you how to retrieve them or even what they are.
You’ve moved on to be haunted
by different ghosts. I return to your hope
chest, my comfortable coffin.