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Puberty
October 6, 2021
Father and I went to the airport to pick up mother.
She left a month ago, to look after grandmother. I
lounged down the backseat, as Nyx
obscured my eyes. They chatter,
the car brimming with bizarre banter.
I caressed the leather underneath,
a phalanx of needles prickling my feet.
I wanted myself asleep, and prayed for
the befall of slumber, so I wouldn't have to
think of a repartee, or a remark of cordiality.
Mother asked, "Is she awake?"
Father said, "She is asleep." I blushed, fain
to have twilight as a disguise.
© MacMillan
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