Mar 3, 2015

Liminal Summer, 11

Written by Nora Hickey

Read by Danielle Sellers

As a young girl, I guide a saw through soft stalks
my tender Maple, my glistening stump

As a young boy, I blot myself out with daddy’s books
a map of me on twenty-six

Our block grew ragged–the sag of unkempt
lawns. The soiled sounds of houses.

As a young girl I would listen
a swarm of flies inside

As a young boy I would watch
white story of the tongue

We confused the bleach and the vinegar:
the ants crawl in the ants crawl out the ants

As a young girl I hemmed and hawed.
As a young boy I shilly-shallied.

We thought there were tubers
inside! All white piles and kindness.

As a young boy I took out the trash
and watched it leak tears for me.

As a young girl I pressed my tongue to grass
–the doors in me disappeared.

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