Creek-going girl - Sarah Whitacre

in

lips turned Bomb Pop blue

sticky palms from sugar water’s drip,

sweat dripping, crawling

between shoulder blades with her blonde

stringy ponytail turning blonder

from lemon juice and the citrine sun

she leaves muddied and sand-shoed

making her way home

with a bagful of river rocks

high-stepping, a woodland soldier,

over knotweed and thistle

trekking with the setting sun

bugs buzzing, awakened

with the coming summer night