"remember summer days" by Rebecca Herrera
the tablecloth unfolds. the sun takes a deep breath
over the kitchen of our fifth-floor apartment.
you are in the shower. blueberries and strawberries
arranged on pancakes like constellations, coffee poured
into yellow mugs, english ivy vines trailing down the cabinets.
like musical notes.
fresh watermelon juice on the counter.
one cup of sugar, grown out of the ground like sunflower stems.
two cups starlight, collected in the palm of your hands.
stirred in a glass bowl until the roses bloom and you can
taste the piano trills.
at least that’s how my mother wrote it down.
she rests her leg on a broken stool, the kitchen swells
in the august heat. spanish moonlight and daydreams on
the record player, like memories. she wears an ice pack
on her head, a summertime bandana. sliced mango on a
another island summer at the window.
that wall is where we hung vegetable ornaments and
wood carvings with thin ropes. over there, attached by magnets,
wedding invitations and graduation photos. in every
corner there are blessings and fairies and the ceiling fan spins
the smoke out our faces. its august and the curtains close.
rice boils infinitely on the stove like love.
Rebecca Herrera is an artsy, strawberry-haired kid born and raised in New York. They graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology with a degree in Art History. She has had work featured in The Aurora Journal, Hecate Magazine, Stuck in Notes, and more. She currently lives in an apartment with her two plants, Orpheus and Eurydice.