Poetry by Natasha King
What was the summer if it
wasn't for us? I wreathed you in
gladiolus and heavy expectations
and we were off, motor oil
marking our tracks,
gyrating asphalt the only thing
between us and the owl-eyed pacific.
We bruised our fingers, reaching for
the stereo dial at the same time.
You tuned the music until it
played our ribs like wind chimes;
the sky poured light but kept its
counsel. How we laughed and sang and
coaxed out those caresses and
cross-country miles, an engine
on its last legs.
Natasha King is a Vietnamese American writer and nature enthusiast. Her poetry has appeared in Okay Donkey, Ninth Letter, and others, and was also featured in the 2020 Best of the Net Anthology. In her spare time, she enjoys writing, prowling, and thinking about the ocean. She can be found on Twitter at @pelagic_natasha.