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Remember, Part One 

 

That scrawny bucktoothed
Two parted-down-the-middle
Braids sprawled in the strung-between
Two weeping willows hammock beside the
Bug murk- filled concrete bird bath
Too skinny girl I used to be.

Lying in that slung too low hammock
Out in front of Nanaʼs aqua trimmed
White brick house in Hickory
And the whippoorwills would sing loud
And Iʼd whistle right back for their answer
And Iʼd have myself a good Judy Blume book
And a big dill pickle and a Coke out of a green glass bottle
And maybe Iʼd still have my wet swimming suit on
From my all day spent in the backyard pool.

How theyʼd have to come yell
Threaten me to get out for dinner
And the only thing thatʼd get me out for sure would be thunder
Because Nana always said you could die in the water
In a lightning storm
But as soon as my dinner settled
So I wouldnʼt get a stomach cramp
And soon as Poppa watched the news
And it got good and dark
Iʼd persuade him to come out and watch me swim
(I couldnʼt swim alone)
And Iʼd skitter out there all bones and shivers
And turn on the underwater pool light
And leap right in with the frogs
And little ring-necked snakes who liked it in there at night too
And Iʼd chase them around
And pluck them out and stick them in the fountain
With the plastic geraniums because thereʼs nothing I hated more
Than to get out there in the morning to find a bunch of dead
Chlorine poisoned frogs.

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About The Author

Amy Barnes

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