The Orange Room Review

Accessible poetry of substance


Wee Three

by Dara-Lyn Shrager


I steal records.  I have babysitting money.
It isn’t about what I can’t afford.

If I rub a neon yellow Wee Three bag
on my head, it makes my hair stand up.

I hang around the mall, throw pennies
in the fountain.  At school, I pay Nancy Hull

to take Fonzi stickers from the teacher’s closet.
I stick them on my closet door.  My mother

asks me where I get them and exactly when. 
“Babysitting money,” I say to her face.

I mind The Funicellos: John, Jess, Elizabeth.
Once, the baby rolled from her changing table.

I am only a kid.  Her naked body bounced up
a little from the carpet then landed a second time.

No words on her tongue, no teeth in her gums.
“Dirty girl”, someone says.

I am stealing lies, too much cash in the wrong
pair of hands, too much time on the clock.



DARA-LYN SHRAGER is a writer living in Princeton, NJ.  Her chapbook, The Boy From Egypt, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2009. Her favorite color is orange.