Mama’s red gingham stake
-out before the crowd
close but not to require
retreat when the syringes and
tampons wash in scrubbed
rock raw but unclean
Habit over necessity. Her of
cocoa oil, no umbrella. Way
-farers and mystery flung
across my Little Mermaid
towel thighs tucked to one side
like Ariel
Lifting from our ribs
No cucumber sandwiches, no
thermoses of lemonade or even
bottles of water; just butter
wafers, a fountain; an excuse to
get on back, to scrub the grime, to
start the sauce before daddy gets in
Once he held me rabbit
heart over Perry’s deck; a shift.
Him a boy in Super 8, brain
pleading to make sense of the
snarl, of the granite just out of
reach and I left myself; am he.
Now there is an island resort with
plastic palms and a Noshery on
the mainland and a painted
tunnel where children
yell messages
more to us than to each other
I love their anger and I miss it
These days I might slow walk
down the jetty to glimpse myself
Sit with feet pointed out but
sneakers on
The last thing I need is grit between my toes
Photo by Zachary Keimig on Unsplash.
Melanie Galizio Stratton
Melanie Galizio (she/her) is an Ohio-based poet, possessed of a curious spirit and deep love of Earth. Her interests span the arts, but she has recently found inspiration in traditional folk music, aural storytelling, and mixed media creative practices. Her recent work has appeared in Cider Press Review. Find her on Instagram at @melanifluous.