Indian Creek by Kayla McAuliffe

Indian Creek

by Kayla McAuliffe

As children,

we came here with our nets and buckets, caught

minnows, salamanders

(I wouldn't touch them)We swore:

friends forever.

Today

I strip the socks from my feet and I follow

you through the icy water

to where the crayfish

still hide.

To you — still friends. To me -

But haven't I been

a pin-prick a day

lately? You've become bitter and

heavy. I know

I've retaliated. Still friends -

you don't know? It isn't true.

You see.

I still won't

touch the crayfish, but you,

ha, you won't allow me my

shortcomings anymore.

That's how we've changed.