Sheen

Seventeen, I slipped into a blue
shimmer of satin, slid my card, slipped out
of Dillard’s to my mother’s shock at the price
and into the hope of glow—of a new
looked-on self, chin tilted, indifferent,  
a gleaming, silvered surface. But getting dressed,
I spilled nail polish remover over the skirt,
seared its shine off. In the scattered light
of the altered gym, the sleek dress drew me tall
as I drew in to hide the slashes down