You are the crack
of book spines, smack of
morning flapjacks slapping cast
iron, the last clatter
of stilettos at three a.m. and a family reunion’s subject matter.
I am the family secret
drunk Aunt Scarlet slurs
through cigarettes. I’m overdue
library books, and residue scraps
from the pancakes your three a.m. girl left
after twelve shots of peach Schnapps.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.