This poem was published in the print journal Pudding Magazine.
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.