Cindy Buchanan

Tipton Poetry Journal – Fall 2021

What I Want

Cindy Buchanan

It’s fall, but warm. My mother and I remove coats while we collect leaves which she later displays, their veins and crisp edges arrayed on her glass table.

And then: What do you want, she asks. Her hand sweeps towards knickknacks, books, furniture. The spoon in my teacup rattles. Your mahogany chest

is what I answer, but what I mean is I want me, age three, leaning against that ornate chest, her majorette’s baton clutched in one hand

my feet splendid in tasseled white cowboy boots. I don’t remember this. It’s a memory forged from a photo my mother keeps— a black and white taken before the seasons

when batons bruised, boots kicked with hate— before I learned wooden boxes hold more than ecru doilies, crocheted blankets, certificates of birth.

Cindy Buchanan grew up in Alaska and has lived in Seattle since graduating from Gonzaga. Work has been published in Evening Street Review, The MacGuffin, Rabid Oak, Hole in the Head Review, and Chestnut Review, and is upcoming in Main Street Rag. An avid runner and hiker with a deep interest in Buddhist philosophy and Zen meditation practice, she has completed the Camino de Santiago in Spain, the Coast to Coast Walk in England, and the Milford Walking Track in New Zealand.