DAUGHTERS OF ZION’S CO-OPERATIVE MERCANTILE INSTITUTION
By Kimberly Ence
Photography: Jordan W.
ZCMI: 300 miles from our podunk town.
Main Street and South Temple on a paper map.
Golden iron facade. Front doors,
heavy as history, swinging open to the smell
of 1970s Revlon and floor wax.
Grandma bought macaroons.
She settled into a chaise within earshot of the dressing rooms
and fell asleep,
crumbs on her bosom,
while my sister and I conspired behind the curtain about training bras,
Bonne Bell Lip Smackers and Hello Kitty.
Grandma is gone.
City Creek runs through the heart of Zion,
not so much a building anymore, but
a co-op of minutes bridging Main Street.
From here I see a golden angel and a trumpet.
A homeless man bounces coins in a coffee cup.
I tap, swipe, and drop a pin.
Kimberly Ence’s earliest writing was accomplished on this thing called a typewriter and self-published on a mimeograph (go ask your grandma). You'll find her work in JuxtaProse (2018 Nonfiction Prize winner), The Eastern Iowa Review, Columbia Journal, Hippocampus and elsewhere. Kim lives in Park City with her husband, caboose son, and Kona, the 90-pound Akita.