With her two brothers
nine goats
and a pack of fruit flies.
When her father tells her
Go get the switch
she is a different color after.
She is April.
Her teeth at well’s bottom
her fall from favor
the deepest fruit.
In the summer she’s a porch fly
against the burn.
But when she curls into a stoop
against the tide of winter
the neighbors
leave their doors cracked
Sivan Butler-Rotholz is the contributing editor of the Saturday Poetry Series on “As It Ought to Be” and a columnist for the iPinion Syndicate. She teaches English and creative writing in New York City and internationally.
