Three Poems
Brooke Simmons
Saint
I got this braided black bracelet in 8th grade when I got my confirmation and chose the name Cecelia because she was the patron saint of music and I thought that would be so cool and different and unique. It didn’t work too well it Brooke Marie.
I wore white and red and became an adult in the eyes of the church but I had been an adult since I learned how to spell “hell” and found out I’d end up there one day.
I’ve never taken it off. Even when it smelled like the rotting shrimp scampi that would spill on it during my first job or when the silver medals turned black after one too many times wearing it in the shower
Saint Benedict stares at me while I curse now and reminds me to feel guilty. He looks at me like I’m a lost cause and his eyes confirm my suspicions but I keep him around to judge me anyway. How could I let him go now?
Private school. Public, no frills, very good life.
Jumpers. Buttons. Frilly socks.
Plaid. Green and blue and black. Yellow thin lines.
Bingo in the church auditorium on Thursdays.
Lunch cart. $2 Hot pretzel. Paper chocolate milk carton I beg mom to buy but never drink.
Jesse tree. Christmas tree. Advent candles. Mamma Mary crackling over the loud speakers,
playing on a cd stereo.
Family life. Boys and girls. Two rooms. Wear deodorant.
Don’t talk about your private parts.
School dance. No date. No dating. No boyfriend. No holding hands.
They’re hugging. Everyone watch them hug. Everyone watch
them kiss. How did they learn how to kiss?
Stand up. Good morning, Sister. And how are you today? Fine, thank you, Sister.
You may be seated. Sit down.
Uniform skirt. Shorts underneath. Cross in every classroom.
They’re rolling their skirts. Should I roll my skirt? I’m not going to
roll my skirt. Good girls are chosen to read the readings.
A letter from St. Paul to the Corinthians.
Bad girls get demerits. Bad girls roll their skirts. Bad girls wear
leggings on dress down days. Bad girls talk to boys. Good or bad boys. They giggle
and get distracted by boys. Good girls don’t get distracted. Good girls don’t
wear makeup. Good girls don’t get noticed or go to the mall
on Friday nights with the good or bad boys.
Good girls get good grades and never have anything
to say during confession.
Driving somewhere, anywhere. Thinking of you.
I’ve written my vows to you a thousand times while talking to Siri in the car. I won’t forgive her for the typos because I’ve had some pretty tearjerking lines, but I’m grateful she was listening when I needed her so that one day I can tell you all the beautiful thoughts I’ve had about you, filling my Notes app in squiggly red underlines and cheesy gibberish love anecdotes
you are my son my mood and mine spar
Brooke Simmons, class of 2024, is from Old Bridge, NJ. She double majored in marketing and English. She was the Vice President of the Glamour Gals at Rutgers and a Student Ambassador at Rutgers Business School.