October 21, 2013 by northerncardinalreview
You are a child’s summertime:
ripples of sand smashed by bare feet,
minnow traps tied to a dock,
pine needles stuck between toes,
and splinters from picnic benches.
You are a spider flicked off a beach towel,
spinning a web between stone steps.
You are a cockroach in the toaster,
a snail caught in a Frisbee;
seaweed tangled in a boat prop,
and the drop-off we couldn’t go past.
You are mosquito bites scratched open and bleeding,
soaked in alcohol, covered in bandages,
stung by a mother’s breath.
You are my scars.
You are the one time I stood on my hands underwater
without fear of drowning.
Katherine Ann Davis is a resident of Oshkosh, Wisconsin, Katherine Ann Davis is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Tennessee, where she is fiction editor of Grist: The Journal for Writers and is completing a novel about a failed collector.