The Pathway to the Sun
I am running away
from my new home,
past the blue green
chlorine pool where
the big kids play. Away
from the rat faced girl
who made fun of my accent
and modest, one-piece bathing suit,
away from the pinched, pointy
faces of PTA moms who never
miss a day of church,
whose stares sting and smirks bite
like lemon juice on a cut.
The soles of my feet are pink
and raw and blistered
from walking barefoot
on concrete on a ninety-nine
degree day, but the burns
feel good, they sear
off old skin and cold
winter days,
into ripples
and waves of heat
that roil off sticky black
tar and asphalt.
But the Southern ladies see me.
They see I am not saved,
that I am running from Jesus,
Jesus who died for all our sins.
They take me to their kitchen,
sit me down in a chair,
wash the tar from my feet,
and anoint me with the holy
Neosporin oil of suburban moms.
Annaliese Wagner is a student at Stephen F. Austin State University. She has appeared in her undergraduate journal HUMID as well as in The Blue Route, Far Enough East, and is forthcoming in The Blue Lyra Review.
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