2017 Patricia Grodd Poetry Prize for Young Writers
Pittsburgh, city of bridges,
like my favorite waves
The ones that don’t sit perfectly
still, the ones that are parabolic.
Dark and Hot Metal.
Lightened by summer and ponytails.
nails can’t untangle.
Running fingers through my hair,
stuck like a little kid in a hammock,
scared of falling.
When I was younger
I wore a crown
the corner of 8 and 9.
Magnified by the swish of irons.
Cold showers in the summer,
the water clings
underneath the bridges
like the last bit of honey
stuck in the bottle.