Member-only story
Girlchild
The overfilled laughter
I remember you —
a tilted neck and corner nap,
a broken room built into home
beside noisy commuter tracks.
I remember you —
a father’s face and serious moves
to dance, fierce laughs with reckless leap,
bruises on my ribs and back.
I remember you —
wrestling with that kite on stage,
hair pulled back in drama light,
shining in a rapt applause.
I remember you —
drawing back, dodging right,
unstoppable in your break
and finishing cleave.
I remember you —
stitched in your chin,
a cherry popsicle in hand,
the length of your four-foot stride.
I remember you —
the overfilled laughter,
a champagne glass of girlchild,
a toast with fingerprints and clink.
I remember you —
upset with me the way a flower
is sad at the snowflake, forced
to transform, a bid to last forever.
©️ Trapper Markelz