Inwood

Lucy's urine came through her white uniform
as she held me tight while we both laughed.
My tennis garb stained too with a bitter yellow
from grapefruits we stole from nearby orchards.

Mr.Gibson chased us, shot rounds from
his shotgun, yelled he would call the police,
large fruit over the ground, planets fallen
from the heavens after his aimless firing.

I sat on the cool stone of the tool shed,
peeled the skin off like leather from
a soccer ball we would kick all over
'Inwood'. Cut our loot in half to hand

over to Lucy with a silver spoon in
the middle. Segments now a sun dial
in the garden we made together, where
hours were ours- existed for the devouring.

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Nancy Anne Miller was born in Bermuda and has a MLitt in Creative Writing from the University of Glasgow. Her poems have appeared in Edinburgh Review, Stand, Haiku Quarterly, The Caribbean Writer, Journal of Caribbean Literatures, The Dalhousie Review, The Fiddlehead, Via, Hampden-Sydney Poetry Review and The Cordite Poetry Review among others. She was a MacDowell Colony Fellow in 2008 and organized and read in Ber-Mused the Bermuda Festival Poetry Event for Bermuda's 400th Anniversary.
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