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Shrill and Cut Loose by Annalisa Strub
 

Summer Mornings

by Keira Doody


On summer mornings,

I watch,

as the sun fights to rise above the clouds

with fresh orange juice dripping down my face

the same color as the light.

I watch,

as the stars die while the sun rises.

 

On summer mornings,

it is just me and my knife,

sharp metal cutting into soft flesh.

I do not know how to cut an orange

but I do try.

 

On summer mornings,

the rays hit the clouds just right,

they look like cities in the sky.

I wonder who lives there,

lost princesses or lonely girls,

certainly only outcasts of our world.

 

On summer mornings,

Venus is in the sky.

Our glowing morning and evening star,  

I never see her anymore at night.

And I wonder how horrible am I

for missing a planet and not my mother.

 

On summer mornings,

I use my orange half as a bowl,

and I am reminded of my birthday

several summers ago.

Chocolate cupcakes in orange peel frames,

I do not like chocolate or oranges,

But I’m afraid I miss people loving me.

 

On summer mornings,

the sun crawls like some spindly creature

reaching its long legs over the horizon.

And it finally cracks,

sun pouring out

a golden orange yolk

on the pale bruised sky.

 

On summer mornings,

I look for people I will not find.

My mother in every woman older than me,

a lover in every girl my grade,

people I’ve left,

people who will never come,

and people suspended in between them both.

 

On summer mornings,

I let it all go.

That is why I am here,

the sun rises into the sky

a rebirth and

I am born again.

 

On summer mornings,

the whole crowd of us flock to the beach

to watch the sun rise until we can no longer see.

Watching because it’s pretty and we like pretty lights,

watching until we think we will go blind.

 

Are we fools or romantics?

The poets would say they are the same thing,

but I am a poet and I do not know anything.

 

On summer mornings,

I imagine the love of my life.

When I kiss her, she will taste like

oranges and bad ideas.

And I will smile as the sky burns like paper.



Keira Doody is a student at Nease High School. She lives in Florida but idealizes her childhood when she lived in Atlanta, Georgia. When not doing homework she is writing, reading, or researching articles about outer space. At any given point she's most likely daydreaming about something or outside in nature.

 

Annalisa Strub creates art, generally in acrylic, because of the beautiful colors and contrast acrylic's make.

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