Song
Nora Youtz
Your flower is lilies of the valley and you smell just as sweet Close your eyes for a moment And you remember your sudsy body last night Mom’s weathered hands combing the gnarls of dark hair reaching for the shower head the spray of cold water ghostly fingers drumming against your skin. You sit on your sweaty hands, pink plastic clips digging into your scalp gecko girl in a glass box pleading for friends Maybe if you swing your velcro sneakers Maybe if you lick your lips, taste the remnants of breakfast your dad set out the pulpy orange juice he made you drink slimy minnows swimming down your throat your body always thirsting for Vitamin C in this place that scorns sun or its blistering gaze. Maybe if you sing that song in your head the one with the guitar that reminds you of the river and the mountains of The Peak
of trams rambling in the sticky night and the Star Ferry bellowing its prayers for calm sea You can pretend you are there where trees grow out of street walls roots fortifying the ancient spirits of stone where life is loud and green and crude and night is so velvety beautifully alive But you are paling skin, once a rich caramel, puckering in the classroom’s AC. You are tracing the bold letters of your laminated name and the city’s thumping heart is a distant dream. Another song of a woman shot by her love who mistook her for a swan So sad, isn’t it? An entire life stolen before it could even begin.