Junebug
March 21, 2025 | poem by Catalina Martinez-Wittinghan
Brown anoles skittered over scorching cement,
as they desperately fled sweaty fingers
covered in chalk dust
and a lopsided smile that was missing a couple teeth.
A chorus of cicadas sang at fortissimo
while dirty sneakers—peppered by grass burs—
led a syncopation
of pounding on gravel.
Each step
fell harder
and closer
until
the
scent
of
melted popsicles
and
chlorine-damaged hair
was nothing more than another failed attempt
to abduct a
Ssmall,
dry,
scaly-skinned pet.
