Courtenay Lee Althouse
She smiled, opening her mouth
to the moon;
her reflection in the pond
like orange citrus.
We never knew she wept in the closet.
She wore the sand
like the dull
colors left in
the crayon box
Her silky strawberry hair
curled to her elbows,
laughing with every
bob and weave.
She raised off
her dimpled knees
and blew to the wind,
“Wait around; I’ll smile again.”
We never knew her favorite color was orange citrus.