By Myna Chang

Can almost see that double-dare girl now, pullin’ down storms, reaching for trouble. Eyes green as tornado sky. Teased a honeyboy from Eufaula till he started talkin’ love. Stole his daddy’s Caddy right out front the church, raced a flash of summer lightning clear through the other side—Oklahoma to Nashville, splickety-lit, then no more honeyboy, no more preachin’ daddy, just a deluge of smooth songbird nights, and that sweet slow slide into age, luscious as midnight rain. Can almost taste ’em again, those trembling thunder years, can almost touch my name in that wildling sky.

Header photo by Jonathan Bowers on Unsplash