Girl with Cherries (Copley Square)
by Lynn Holmgren
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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. |
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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).
