Poetry

Summer

By: Yasmeen Yahya

Crunch – the pink, sticky juices race down

My lips to my fingers, and they trickle down my arms

A mess eating the watermelon my mother

Tenderly cut for me but I don’t wait for

A bowl or a fork or a napkin

Because the best way to eat a watermelon is without

Caution or care

 

And just like the Texas summer it becomes a part of you

So I laugh and laugh because my arms are sticky and naturally I

Chase my mom around the kitchen

My arms out wide as she laughs and laughs and

My lips are a shade of pink that’s only visible on a day in July,

After munching on some watermelon your mother cut for you.

I only want to eat watermelon.

I only want to see shades of pink.

 

She hands me a bowl and a wad of napkins

Sterge-te

And then I ask for another more, please.

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