Young Fearless The rain started like static – Muffling the chirped lectures and church caveats, a nun’s ruler tapping in our heads, an unending metronome to pace our instincts. But that static amplified, Pouring out and shaking us. We couldn’t keep from running out to dance, letting the droplets slick silver coating on tight skin, on bare arms where hair prickled upward, silky grass blades. We stuck our tongues out at lightning bolts against old warnings and laughed when the flashes came too close. My friend’s mother stood at the back door, watching, knuckles over the handle, ready to push out and order us in before the thunder could get too angry and shatter us like fragile figurines. Whoever told us storms were something to hide from never heard their music, the metallic windowpane-plucking, but we, the ballerinas on top of the music box, twirled blissfully in the mud. |
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AuthorKatherine Russell is an author, poet, activist, and freelancer from Buffalo, NY. Categories
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November 2018
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