Skipping in the Vortex
Nathalie Kuroiwa-Lewis
You remember what it felt like once
to be the kid bounding
on earth so soft
bounding on tufts
of poppies and daffodils
planted on the edge
of a driveway
that no man’s land—
a periphery of space
demarcating
where the wild unfurls
into an unknown
between yours and his
and how impossible it seemed then to
discern
the bright reds and purples
beneath the feet
signaling
this is mine—
this is yours.