Monday, February 21, 2011

Sunbathing


Her hair trails down the back of the lawn chair,
Thick red tendrils
Stretching to meet the ground. 
The screen door bangs shut.
Her sister’s seven-year-old gait
Rattles the front porch slats,
Announcing her presence.
She sighs, pushes her sunglasses further up her nose.

She chomps at her gum in annoyance
But bites her tongue instead.
She rolls the gum across the roof of her mouth
To distract from the pain.
She presses her tongue into its rubbery flesh,
Smoothing its ridged surface
Like a smeared fingerprint on a store window
Or a nose print that sits above a circle of pressed lips.

Her tongue reaches up again,
Rolls the gum forward, past her teeth
Launching it in a high arc.
It glistens against the sky,
Lands where the sidewalk curves.
Embracing the concrete,
It waits to greet the sole of her sisters
Sneaker, when she runs to gather the mail.

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