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Candace's Canopy Bed

This poem was published in the print journal Pudding Magazine.

Group of Barbie dolls dressed in Hawaiian-style clothing and hula dancing
Photo by Sean Bernstein on Unsplash

Candace's Canopy Bed

Dad never had money for a Barbie

because he gave it all to the missionaries.

I was supposed to love them,

but I loved my friend Candace's bedroom.

She was Candy for short, and she had lots of that,

shoved under the mattress with valentines from boys.

She had Barbie's townhouse, too-

the three-story one with the pink elevator.

She had Ken and Midge and the twins

with the camper they'd all skipped town in.

We drove them to India, their evening gowns

glittering, strappy shoes dangling,

unbent knees splaying their legs, and I prayed

for India, for the poor brown people to get Saved,

and for God to give Dad more money

while in their own canopy bed the missionaries

played with my Barbie,

eating candy from offering plates.

Published in Pudding Magazine Issue #70.


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