Vol 12, Num 24 :: 2013.12.27 — 2014.01.09
Suitcase packed, bunk beds stripped.
Mckenzie, unsheathed. The bus,
steaming in front of the lodge.
Time to go home. Stripping the last
of the summer from the kids before
they go back to the city. My arm, naked
and pointing the same direction as time.
The glint of the sun on tomorrow
made her eyes water.
Mckenzie, waving her mouth like a sword
since breakfast, slices, bites, her teeth tattooing
my pale, my naked summer, my skin.
My favorite. Mckenzie. My new scar.
Mckenzie, dripping sweat and anger.
Maybe I said something about her dad.
Maybe I said something about someone else’s dad.
Maybe it wasn’t about dads made of skin or sky or railroad.
Maybe Mckenzie realized in that moment her teeth were half
her father’s, maybe she wanted to know if her teeth’s presence
were as powerful as her father’s absence.
Maybe I said goodbye.
Maybe I punished her
before her teeth ever touched me.
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