Here there are cutback trees,
open front lawn, chairs and an outside couch
with liquor bottles and a keg around the side of the house.
Weed spot by the trash can,
that’s where they get high
while the music envelops the air
and while my mom sings karaoke,
and my aunt makes drinks
that fall down our throats
like the streams of a Mississippi river.
Here is happy,
there are laughs and sticky kitchen counters,
a bar in the basement, fold up chairs on the concrete
where we pass out before the sun pops up.
Here, there are drinks from 8 am to 8 am
and there is praise if you drink enough to last
and here there are cutback trees
and drunk laughs and tattoos scared onto my skin
from the heavy smiles and loud voices of my people.
Here, there is a home,
that sings to the sunshine
and dances to the moon.
Sydney Sargis is a student at Columbia College of Chicago majoring in Poetry. Her work can be found in The Writing Conference, Navigating the Maze 2016, Forest for the Trees, and UltraViolet Tribe. She is a previous co-editor for Teenage Wasteland Review, and a 2016 Scholastic Awards writing portfolio winner. Her interests include writing poetry, listening to records, and playing rugby.