For Some Things You Need a Canary You’d never know months ago she posted cherry toes peeking up; glass of sweet tea on the tub. Romance breezed to chapter three, handful of Red Vines tucked in the crack (summer afternoon snack!). You would know: lit brown eyes, orthodontic teeth. Obituary shot: shoulders back, breasts nuzzling a gold chain where a hungry infant could latch. You’d have no idea, she’d floored a used Mustang, Louisiana to Texas. Rejected, cut the pain with a pearl- handled gun (gift from Daddy last Christmas). Without an informant: there’d be no deep woods Baptist preacher, no (tricky!) open casket. Certainly not this frizz of sunflower clumps; sixty-six sticks jabbed in fresh dirt, courtesy of a young woman sporting a blue tick hound and a baby bump: Only a field will do for Sis!
Priscilla Atkins is the author of The Café of Our Departure (Sibling Rivalry Press) and Drinking the Pink (Seven Kitchens Press). She reads and writes in Michigan.
Grand Little Things 