Poem by Annamaria R. Quaresima
August 15, 2023
I am bereft of my foamy cap; Decore did not deliver on that soft serve ice cream hair: dense ivory lather, shampoo twirled smooth into a kewpie tuft, with a side of radiant morning singing. I never expected a chorus shoulder-shimmying, bursting out from behind my sink in catchy doo-wop song, or to adore a brand I didn’t use, but I was firm in my bubble-encased (self-image), forgetting their fragile state, and did not expect such a paltry display of froth; a woeful Schrödinger’s cappuccino. And now! My bubble is burst; to think that, in all this time since a late 80s advertisement, a brief false assurance, I’ve been sudsing away, for decades, assuming, and I never thought to seek the mirror’s honest confirming glimmer. This—is a reminder: check reality with thine own eyes.
About Annamaria R. Quaresima
Annamaria R. Quaresima (she/her) received a PhD in psychology from The University of Adelaide and currently resides in Sydney. She enjoys having more hobbies than time and researching anything. Her work is forthcoming in Red Ogre Review.