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.