ODE TO YARMOUTH

POETRY Amanda Dettmann

i was mothered by sober women who gathered at book club to drink wine & whine

about this printing press town this brick mill in Maine this waiting list yoga class sneaker-filled

with sand & blank checks their hands Botoxed origami in imperfect air Abbi didn’t get into her top college

Emma keeps inserting tampons in the wrong hole holy moly mothers with artichoke dip rosaries wet wiped marble counters those little

butter knives that fit in manicured grips Got peachy keen topcoat today All out of lipstick promise, Shelley

SUVs on lease parked in my driveway like bowling alley bumpers report cards sunken in Grade A leather seats

Did you hear about Hannah? the daughter who drank too much vodka at Clam Festival then drove her high school friends

home Did you hear her brother’s balding at twenty? PTA sundaes Reddi-wipped with jesus these hairless skiing

mothers who come back from Sugarloaf smelling of sunscreened tans the color of expired Goldfish how can they let

go & stop & slow down when this town predicts your future at birth Ivy League valedictorians volunteering

at soup kitchens for resumes for Instagram the day i turn eighteen i knock on Tracy Glessner’s historic house

smell her daughter’s ribs

hanging above the evergreen fireplace my friend it’s time for dinner come downstairs & pray for me