by Katie Kemple
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| Cartoon by Walt Handelsman, The Advocate |
I dream I’m in an auditorium about to see
a show. To the far left, in the dark, sits
Gloria Steinem, her signature straight
hair beneath the twin stems of her aviator
glasses, so calm and beautiful. Even the host
makes eyes at her, tries to grab her attention.
On stage, they roll out a gurney, the lower
half of a woman’s body. I can't see her face.
Others gather around—men from all over
the world, a type of ceremony. I find
my mother and sit behind her, slide
my arm through the space between chairs
to interlock fingers with her. I whisper:
"Gloria is here." But my mother has been
dead for seven years. I'm afraid of what
we're about to see. It's so dark. I can't see.
Katie Kemple (she/her) writes to make sense of the world. Her work has appeared recently on Longleaf Review, Matter, and The West Review.
