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.
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 2015 Pushcart Prize nominee, Lynn's poem can be found in Issue 11 of Glassworks.