She’s got it all tied up in that long, blonde ponytail,
flipping between friends whose sweet voices
ring out across the playground: teacher’s pet, tender head
like a fresh sponge. Slow down.
It’s her gapped-tooth grin I’ve rediscovered,
teeth trunk stumps serving as islands,
floating
as if her words jumped from the bluffs
without fear of landing wrong.
Her ocean eyes opened wide
for every honey sunrise, lashes fluttering
to life with a stretch and a yawn:
a deep breath in, a loud sigh out,
a fat black cat to have
breakfast with, a playfulness
to balance out her limbs
to balance out her downturned mouth
to balance out her playfulness
“You’re so well-rounded”, chirp her friends’ moms
to the girl who feels more like a square
while she remained a pleasure
to have in class, a companion for those without.
How quietly inevitable, her emergence into art,
a cautious break of the rules — one by one in
the name of creation, of clean skin and lined paper
with infinite space to write. Hot, like rushing into the
crowded classroom after a sweaty summer recess.
Cold, lights off, head on the desk
in hopes her heart would cool down.
Deliberate. Everything she does has meaning.
She can chase Isabella
up and down Stadler Street
easily, shins kiss the sidewalk
when the best friends can’t decide
between breath, or laughter.
Macadamia nuts fall from above. Tree bark
scrapes our necks as we laugh about secret languages
and stray cats. It is the simplest part of every day
spent in a life cooked down to a viscous love.
The lunch packed by dad, the fever with which
she tore through the classroom library,
stomach aches induced by the undertaking
of growing up before everyone else,
the whir of her mom’s hair dryer, the warm
blast of air down her back
the tucking in and the crashing out,
the recurring dreams as rewards.
It is all a paradise she routinely returns to.
Childhood entered in the swish of
a long, blonde ponytail.
Hannah Tracy is a poet from San Diego, California. She values prose that feels like stubbing your toe on a bed frame, or landing on a mattress made of clouds. In between highs and lows, you can find her watching Youtube for cats, or maybe just on instagram @unfinished.bug.