I was so happy to see this poem published by Silver Birch–it came as a complete surprise, as I hadn’t received an acceptance letter. No complaints!
My last name remained the same
until my stepfather adopted me
when I was thirteen.
My parents said
that my new last name
would entitle me
to an enormous sum of money-
I’d receive a portion
of the Woolworth’s fortune,
which had somehow found its way
into the talons of my stepfather’s family.
Due to the magic of posthumous
trickle down economics
I would become a woman of means,
but this would only happen
after a bunch of older relatives died.
My mother told me
not to get my hopes up too much,
because all of them
were still in pretty good health,
and were likely to protest loudly
when they discovered
that my stepfather had adopted me.
Soon my name was the same
as my mother’s and siblings’
and I was no longer the outsider.
My birth father was indifferent
to my defection from…
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