Fleeting by Pat West

swinghigh1

My sister leans against the archway
in my bedroom. Beautiful
even with the shunt
bulging at her left temple
like a goose egg. Her green eyes
stunning over an emerald silk
blouse. I tell her I love her
and treasure how she taught me to ride
a two wheeler, find my balance,
push past the wobbles. And to always
hold on tight to the ropes or chains,
to be in charge of making the swing go,
legs back, legs out, reach for the sky.
And later, how to kiss.
I laugh, though I don’t know why, she laughs
too. We always did that. She smiles
and disappears before I can tell her
my daughter turned out more like her than me.
More Oscar Madison than Felix Unger,
more self confident than insecure
and more Hemingway fan than Fitzgerald.

About the Author: Pat West

PatWestBio

Pat Phillips West lives in Olympia, WA.  A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, her work has appeared in Haunted Waters Press, Persimmon Tree, VoiceCatcher, San Pedro River Review, Slipstream, Gold Man Review and elsewhere.

Comments are closed.

Powered by WordPress. Designed by Woo Themes