Making friends with my younger self
takes years until one day my brother appears
with photos he took of our long ago trip
to New Zealand and when I see myself
posing by Mt. Cook, standing in a street
full of sheep, on a boat in Lake Wakatipu
suddenly I don’t need to forgive
the Playgirl centerfolds decorating my old dorm room
my sleeping around, how long it took me to be faithful
to anyone or anything but birth control
I remember the hollow center of pain
can see even in these faded snapshots
that she was doing the best she could
and she was so free…how can I refuse to love
what I made out of so much nothing
Joanne Holdridge lives in Arlington, MA and has recently published poems in Coal City Review, Illuminations, New American Writing, Poem, Talking River Review, and Willow Review. She has work forthcoming in Mudfish and The Midwest Quarterly and has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Prior to Covid-19, she spent winters on skis in northern NH and taught poetry and literature classes to ESL students at Bunker Hill Community College for thirty years.