Donna

I received the news today.
How can it be?
We were eighteen.
Your white-blonde hair,
your Virginia Slims cigarettes.
You were a wounded bird even then.

Oh, the fun we had.
Products of a southern upbringing,
yours more southern than mine,
complete with a propensity for the “unique.”
Dear God, you were unique.

We shared more than the south.
Our best friend, Kat,
and double dates.
We shared late night confessions,
you introduced me to your demons.
We were sisters.

Truth be told,
we lost you long ago.
We lost you, you lost us.
I hear Don gave you your world back,
a family (what we tried to give you),
surely better than those college boys.

Your laughter, your life, your light
all gone. All hidden forever,
behind the smoke of your Virginia Slims,
your blonde hair, your fractured beauty.
Southern Comfort, empty now,
but not our hearts.

We hold you dear,
like that long, long road a winding
that we’ve heard about.
We will see you again,
raise a glass, laugh.
We love you, Trixie.