chin to the sky
stretching
her arms
like Redwoods,
plunging one
into damp soil
fingers curling
like roots,
cradling the earth.
The other she
stretches
through the clouds,
her thin
fingernails like
half moons
stoop to kiss
the stars goodnight.
She stands whisper still.
After a few years
her skin
toughens like bark,
her eyelashes turn
to leaves,
her purple skirt
blooms Lilacs
around her ankles.
And the mothers wonder—
whatever happened to that little girl,
the one whose family drove away one day
blowing kisses from behind bags
Just a short trip father said
Don’t break my stuff brother said
We’ll miss you terribly mother said.
With one hand
she holds onto
the crumbling earth,
but with the other
she stretches
just a little more
each day
reaching limb
after lonely limb
into the sky,
hoping to see
her father, her brother
stretching
to hear her mother say-
Oh, we’ve missed you terribly,
Yes, so terribly.
This poem is lovingly weird and nostalgic. Reading this, you may remember being 4 feet tall, on a field trip, suddenly aware of your size and impermanence on the earth. Katy's spin on that experience, a story of a girl who is also a tree, is an oil painting of a poem--saturated in rich diction ("damp soil," "cradling the earth," and "kiss the stars goodnight") and cleverly shaped to add dimension to her readers' sense of wonder.
ReplyDeleteThere is no better compliment than to be likened to an oil painting- thanks co-editor. (Also helps take away the sting of being "weird"- haha)
ReplyDeleteAt least I didn't call you EDGY.
ReplyDelete...that doesn't even look like a word when it's all caps.