were known for their cobalt-hue and fish tails.
Braided carp swimming in smalt waters.
Folding cots positioned under them.
Guests stayed overnight on Thursdays
in the winter only. For warmth
and tuna casseroles with bread-crumbs.
Baked by volunteers on kitchen duty.
Rachel did community service there.
She spent hours at Fellowship Hall.
Gatherings of plastic plates and salt.
Forks, spoons clicking in a chatter.
People were afraid of her. Rachel asked
a lot of what-happens-when questions.
Lolli answered with a point, wave. Harump.
Her face was like a Russet potato.
Her brothers said it was “good for mashing.”
So they did when she refused to remain quiet
about them hush-hushed things. They silenced her
as punishment for having “sass-mouth.”
Lolli cooked, nodding along to a hymn.
Boys, licking ketchup packets, poked her side.
She stuck out what was left of her tongue,
making a lo’ pop sound.
Paula Eglevsky lives on the East End of Long Island, New York. Her writing has appeared in various newspapers, journals, and magazines. Ms. Eglevsky graduated from the State University of New York at Albany with her Bachelors of Arts degree in English. She earned her Masters of Fine Arts degree from Long Island University, Southampton College, in Creative Writing. She previously published a book of haikus entitled Ladder of Starlight and currently teaches at Suffolk County Community College. Ms. Eglevsky believes that learning is a life-long process and is pursuing a doctorate degree in Literacy Studies at Hofstra University.