The Spoilers by Terri Kirby Erickson

I wasn’t sure I liked it, the A-framed skirt of that
prom dress with its yellow roses, its layer of creamy
chiffon. The sash showcased the tiny waist I took
for granted, but I didn’t care about that. My friends
were all slender reeds, as thin as we would ever be
again. What we wanted was to make our prom dates
swoon with desire. But you can’t say such a thing
to the gray-haired co-workers of your mother’s in
the department store where she worked. They’d
taken me to the bridal section, which had the best
mirrors, and they all, along with my mother, were
oohing and aahing, their faces shining like polished
apples. I didn’t have the heart to disappoint them
and it was the best of the lot in the place where my
mom could get a discount. So, I wore it on prom
night with a yellow and white corsage on my wrist,
my hair like dark water tumbling over my rose-
patterned shoulders, my date as sullen as an old man
forced to rise from his chair when company came
to call. He was a spoiler of special occasions—you
know the type—whose good looks make girls forget
about their ruined Christmases and birthdays, the
dances when we call our dads to pick us up early.
But I still remember that feeling of let-down—how
glad I was that the nice salesladies couldn’t see me
tear off my rose-covered dress like it was on fire.



Terri Kirby Erickson is the author of seven collections of poetry. Her work has appeared in “American Life in Poetry,” Rattle, The SUN, The Writer’s Almanac, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Verse Daily, and many others. Her awards include the Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and a Nautilus Silver Book Award.