I’m mesmerized by the girl in the centre of the photo, even though it’s me I barely recognize her. Those long, blond, slept-in looking pigtails, three-quarter-sleeve navy cotton top, a “what do you want,” look on her face after craning around to the sound of her father’s voice calling her name, then snapping the photo. Her right hand grips the front of the boy's 10-speed bike seat. In the background, a pink two-wheeler with trainers and a white banana seat sits idle, barely casting a shadow on this sunlit summer day. If pushed a few more feet it will be considered with the rest of the trash waiting by the road for pickup. Did the adults notice her arms are too long for that shirt? Her purposeful hand claiming the way-too-tall-for-her bike? The look of annoyance as her plan is interrupted? Later that night did someone give her a bubble bath, brush her knotted hair, kiss her scraped up knees and elbows, encourage her to try again tomorrow?
Little girl grows out
of her clothes. A turnip
pressing the soil away.
of her clothes. A turnip
pressing the soil away.
Camille Norvaisas lives in Pennsylvania, US, and believes imagery is a funnel by which life’s experiences are filtered into her poetry. She is currently working toward her MFA at Arcadia University and her first book is Rare As The Kotuku (Aldrich Press, 2015).