Elissa Matthews | If I Could Travel in Time

I would reassure myself at 24
Yes, you screwed up your first job.
You’ll have another shot at spreadsheet balancing,
let the shame fade.
And stay away from Doug.

Then I would remind myself at 48
when the memory of those sliced apples,
green and wet, is too vivid, 
joy is a grease fire. So is pain.
Bread is sugar, salt, and yeast.

My next jump would be forward
to shake my 80-year-old self.
You’re too old to die young.
That knee grinds like an old ballerina.
Call the cat sitter and get the damn surgery.

I will hug my 13-year-old self too tight.
You’ll cry too long over that boy 
who knows you like apricot soap,
but there’s someone coming who will buy you orchids.
Just stay away from Doug.

Sneaking ice cream to my 100-year-old self
I’d say: Ignore those frozen hips and blurry eyes,
smile past the memory of ancient mistakes,
that heart of yours came through. It’s been 
a salty, yeasty loaf of bread.

When I was done with all that telling
I would tell myself not everyone
needs to know what I have learned.
Not everybody even wants to know.
At least that’s what Doug says.

Screw Doug.





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