Honeychild

by Kylie Ayn Yockey

Honeychild

Golden hour June light filters past peach fuzz

kissing the top of her head—

Her mama’s May baby,

plump, pink, smooth of newborn pruning.

Cradled rocked and raised,

apple-eyed and cherub-faced.

 

I met her in September kindercare,

missing-mom tears tracking her cheeks.

She glowed gold and tangerine,

summertime freckles kissing fragile shoulders.

We shared crayons candy crushes,

caught fireflies every cool October evening.

 

When my girl first kissed boy on a New Years

under eighth grade illegal fireworks,

the same night another pair of male lips

met my quick turn to cheek—

I looked over to her to see if amber eyes

were turning to look see see me back,

but hers were crinkled shut against someone else.

 

Between college prep and final rival games,

we drank moonshine in party-cloudy March moonlight.

Poured over the rail of her back deck,

I poured professions and confessions.

Silently she held my hair back while I poured

my guts and her mama’s collard greens back up into porcelain sink.

She waited til I was mumbling apologies around my toothbrush

to kiss me.

 

Golden hour July light filters past peach fuzz

kissing the top of her upper lip.

I kiss the crown of her head,

nuzzle into her hair’s summer heat.

Sprawling legs on dash and

hand in my wheel-free own,

halfway across nation and country

with all our luggage bushelled in the trunk.

It’s hard to watch the road and her as she hollers to radio beats,

voice dripping as we beat and roll along.

She is unafraid and I feel free—

We are the tumbling weeds

Kylie Ayn Yockey is a queer southern creative with a BA in Creative Writing & Literature. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Glyph Magazine, Meow Meow Pow Pow Lit, Night Music Journal, Gravitas, Ordinary Madness, Stray Branch, and Not Very Quiet. She has edited for Glyph, The Louisville Review, Ink & Voices, and is poetry editor for Blood Tree Literature. www.kylieaynyockey.com

Kylie Ayn Yockey

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