For That
on the way down the hill the girls and I remember
last week when they did a botch job
polishing each other’s fingernails
the child shows me her hands now: see my mother
got the red out of the places
where you couldn’t
my offhanded question: your mother
wasn’t upset about your nails was she
no it was okay she didn’t
hit me for that
BIO
Lyall Harris is a visual artist and writer whose poetry and prose have appeared in The Minnesota Review, The New Guard, The Dewdrop, The Perch Magazine, The Vincent Brothers Review, High Shelf Press, and elsewhere; her creative nonfiction has been featured in The Montréal Review.
https://lyallharris.com
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