May 15

I have a memory of being in a stretch
of land hollowed out, a shallow pond
to be and running around the hollow with
my dad and one day it being full with
water and before it being full the land
being pale and flat grass, and after, wet
and dark, green blue and clearer in some
parts and willow trees, weeping willows,
three, gathered on the east side of the
pond and another child pulling on the
branches and wishing they would stop.

Maria Chiappetta lives in Chicago. Her work has appeared in The Lampeter Review and Ratking Lit. She is currently working on a newspaper publication of art and writing called The Midwest Lard. She can be found on Instagram at slittyputty.