That summer, I read The Americanization of Emily.
Hornets built a nest in the apple tree.
Pap burned a can of oily rags to smoke them out.
Alma had her appendix removed.
Cowboy killed three of our neighbor’s chickens.
Jae ran off to New Orleans with a sailor.
I drank lemon soda and watched Matt
pole his boat through the shallows. His muscles
glistened with sweaty sheen. The boat slipped forward
silently as water dripped plink, plink, from his net,
spreading ripples in concentric circles. Matt
thought I was a child, but I knew
Grandma was eleven years younger than Pap.
fiction poetry "fact" photography