By: Chloe Bausano
The memories crackle between my
fingertips like potpourri, smelling
of downy and summer: sunscreen,
rocket-pops, pigtails askew and
tangled up in the back of a croakie.
Dirty feet stick out the back of a tent, I
spray Deet that they do not sell on the
shelves anymore, why do families look
like bunches of hydrangeas peaking over
each other in an enamored cluster?
Sunflowers exist like children smiling, they
hoist their spines straight up from the ground
and look towards the lighthouse, poignantly
optimistic, unabashedly electric, petals like
teeth in an open mouth, laughing eclectically at,
as often as not, everything.
Chloe is an emerging poet who recently graduated from Cornell University with a degree in English Literature. Her work has previously been published by Cathexis Northwest Press, eris & eros, and Beyond Words Literary Magazine. She strives to capture nostalgia and prolong fleeting moments with her work.