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Poetry | July 2014

Why We Tell Them the Truth

By Dayna Patterson

Cicadas loud as lawn mowers crop the night.
Eyes wide, my girl asks, What is that sound?
She will swallow any story I feed her. I could say,

with his sharp teeth, a flying shark saws the sky,
or
it’s a string of lightning, sizzling and alone,
looking for a little electricity.
       It’s God’s radio all static-y.

Because this world is wondersome enough,
I tell her, bugs that rattle, I say cicadas,
and imagine what monster she conjures:
part maraca,
part shaking snake,
thunder shedding skin.

1 reply on “Why We Tell Them the Truth”

Normasays:
July 15, 2014 at 6:39 am

Oh Dayna. I wish I had your brain. I love how your thoughts
create such magical formations of words!

Reply

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