remember summer days - Rebecca Herrera

i.

the tablecloth unfolds. the sun takes a deep breath

over the kitchen of our fifth-floor apartment.

you are in the shower. blueberries and raspberries

arranged on pancakes like constellations, coffee poured

into yellow mugs, english ivy vines trailing down the

cabinets like musical notes.

ii.

fresh watermelon juice on the counter.

one cup of sugar, grown out 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.

iii.

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, fanning herself with

a dish towel. sliced mango on a paper plate.

another summer at the window.

iv.

that wall is where we hung vegetable ornaments and

wood carvings with twine. 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 of our faces. its august and the curtains close.

rice boils on the stove like love.

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REBECCA HERRERA is a strawberry-haired girl born and raised in New York. She received her bachelor’s in Art History and Museum Professions from the Fashion Institute of Technology and has two associate degrees in Visual Arts and English. She has had work featured in Small Leaf Press, Horse Egg Literary, Hecate Magazine, and others. She is currently the managing editor of fifth wheel press and lives in an apartment with her three plants, Orpheus, Eurydice, and Calliope.