This time of year our daughters gather in basements, bedrooms and rec rooms to celebrate the solstice in fireproof pajamas. Away from the constrictive philosophies of matriarchs in high heels, their bare feet become ginger root, their hair the sort of heaven a dragonfly might believe in if a dragonfly believes in anything at all. They initiate each other with words and other dubious magic, speaking softly but confidently of boys and the wondrous lotion that boys produce. Bowls of popcorn left half full to appease transitioning spirits, they take turns becoming the gentle breeze, the outstretched arms, the open window: light as a feather, stiff as a board, light as feather, stiff as board . . .
Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He also edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters. His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit and Cloudbank.