—A poem today after a long hiatus
—Happy International Day of the Girl
WHAT GROWING UP TASTES LIKE
I sit with my windows open, drink of the air
as if it were the gumdrop from childhood
that never melted, that never tasted
quite like the color coating implied:
daffodil yellow, all-of-your-dreams-come-true-
blue, make-a-wish-like-it-matters-white
cotton. Now, I chew on gum only until
the flavor is out, long before it can turn
gray skeleton, harlequin moon, empty lake
by an extinguished fire.