"Change of Season” by Anna Girgenti
Lay at the bottom of the sledding hill
in my backyard
with the rain
soaking through your shirt
and freezing,
Eyes froze shut as dad lifts me up,
hurls me from his shoulders into the deep
end of our swimming pool like something
taken or received,
a cannonball--
Caterwaul: to utter long-drawn, wailing cries,
especially in the night.
Two shadows dance in the rain
to show their good faith
and to help keep
the peace.
Father and I,
Fledgling: a young bird just able to fly
Leman: a sweetheart or lover
on sweltering summer days
or slamming car door
one January night.
But
bearded characters stay bearded,
and he never flinched
intradermal: within the layers of the skin,
carved into my
cranium and
tightening around
my throat— begging to save
whatever is left of the little girl in a
snow white costume
laying at the bottom of the sledding hill,
White quartz split into
innumerable
fragments.
Lay at the bottom of the sledding hill
in my backyard
with the rain
soaking through your shirt
and freezing,
Eyes froze shut as dad lifts me up,
hurls me from his shoulders into the deep
end of our swimming pool like something
taken or received,
a cannonball--
Caterwaul: to utter long-drawn, wailing cries,
especially in the night.
Two shadows dance in the rain
to show their good faith
and to help keep
the peace.
Father and I,
Fledgling: a young bird just able to fly
Leman: a sweetheart or lover
on sweltering summer days
or slamming car door
one January night.
But
bearded characters stay bearded,
and he never flinched
intradermal: within the layers of the skin,
carved into my
cranium and
tightening around
my throat— begging to save
whatever is left of the little girl in a
snow white costume
laying at the bottom of the sledding hill,
White quartz split into
innumerable
fragments.