Awash

Standard

LOUNGE20

(for my children)

I.

Two. Five.

In a tub full of bubbles,
hair soaped liked kewpie dolls,
you both mug for the camera.
Squint-eyed with a laughter
that is photo audible,
sound belling out still
over tiny teeth,
and through spots where tiny teeth
have recently gone missing,
you sit side by side,
happy image arrested.

II.

Fifteen. Eighteen.

Wooden you pose,
adjacent,
the space between you
wide enough to hold
phantom children.
I wait for the current
to push you back together,
for the wash that
cleans fractures,
leaving easy cohesion,
a new joy seized.

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 22

20140418-145050.jpg

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