Girl with Cherries (Copley Square)

​by Lynn Holmgren

She's got ripe cherries
tattooed above each knee--
socks pulled up to bicker
with her short skirt hem.

Bubblegum-blue hair,
bright as mouthwash,
singing as she soaps her hands in
the marble sink of the city library.

Beige women wait in line,
a collective glance in the mirror
confirming their median age:
Ancient Roman bust.

The lions' tails have been rubbed blind
for wishes less than these--
cherries with their playful
winning-eyes, like a slot machine--

A vendor in the square sees a spike
in sales, vermilion, azure, artichoke,
arsenic; brightly-colored neck-
scarves, wound to keep heads from rolling.

---

Lynn Holmgren lives and writes in Boston. She is a recent graduate of UMass Boston, earning her MFA in Fiction. Her work has appeared in Stoneboat, Merrimack Review, Hawaii Pacific Review and Sonder Review. She is a community arts organizer, bicycle advocate, and co-founder of WWF (Women Writing Fiction).

A 2016 Pushcart Prize nominee, Lynn's poem can be found in Issue 11 of Glassworks.