In May, I traded my blood-stained ballet slippers for piano lessons
from a senile Cuban named Rosa who smelled of pork, talcum powder
and cats. She sat too close to me on the hard piano bench as I
fooled her with my good ear; the music I couldnt read, more like
soup ladles or confused fleas than music. Still, I collected victory
stars the color of Liberaces suits or La Virgen de la Caridads
crown. Rosa swooned between chords, shut her eyes, and I gazed out
the window at the boys playing baseball on the street, pointing and
laughing at each others asphalt-skinned knees. In July, I traded my
Tuesdays with the 88s for a stiff, clay colored baseball glove,
which I oiled and caressed until it hugged my eager hand just right.
After a game, I ran upstairs to the bathroom, balanced on the edge
of the slick, porcelain tub. The scent of leather and sweat filled
the room as I poured Bactine over my crude wounds, watched the froth
and crackle of newborn flesh. I carried my glove back down, placed
it gently on the shelf in the closet behind the dusty piano, where
my ballet slippers hung on a hook like rotting bananas.

"Forgotten Dreams" by Tami Vaughn

Bio: Terri Carrion was conceived in Venezuela, born in New York, raised in Los Angeles and currently lives in Hollywood, Florida. She is working on her MFA at Florida International University. Other poems have or will appear in VOX, Slipstream, Pearl, Mangrove, Hanging Loose, The Cream City Review, Penumbra, Tigertail:A South Florida Anthology, Mipoesias, Jack, Paper Tiger, and BigBridge.

Contact Terry Carrion at tere67@bellsouth.net