Summer Days

Those hot hot summer days. Hair curling against sticky clammy foreheads.
Pony tails, pig tails or braids. Keep it off our neck and backs.
Sometimes we’d skinny dip in the middle of the afternoon. Having a glorious
time being mermaids, doing handstands, twirling, jumping
in and out of the pool. How many somersaults can you do without
stopping? Seven or eight tops. How long can you hold
your breath under water? Two minutes the best! How many laps under water?
Cool water on our overheated skin. Our swimsuits tanning on the pool ledge.
Swinging in the hammock with a book. Maybe Nancy Drew, Heidi, a biography,
anything that lands in our hands. Picking grapes from the arbor.
Black and purple. Darker the sweeter. Hands stained. Hauling them to the tree
fort in the apple orchard. Climbing the steep ladder to the top.
Eating grapes, peaches, cherries. Those juicy fruits spilling
all over our mouths, chins, the floor. Our fingers a sticky mess!
My sisters and I all laughing and giggling spitting the pits and seeds over the side.
Who can spit the farthest? It seemed we were so high
up we could touch the sky but there was so much more tree over us.
Back to swimming. Swimming in summer rain. Dinners light and quick.
Too hot to cook. Anything but the oven. Hamburgers, hot dogs on the grill.
Sandwiches, eggs. Leftover ham or chili made days earlier. Our go to frozen
treat—homemade KoolAide pops. As the sun slides down, the night sky
fireflies glowing, becoming a dazzling light show. Jumping barefoot
after them, catching them in jelly jars. Sometimes a quick shower outside
with the hose. Soap and towels found their way to the backstep.
Lining up like a row of little dolls, icy cold water spraying us all over, quickity quick.
Squeals of laughter and shock as the chilly frosty water hit our backs and legs.
Quick dry. Off to sleep. “Now I lay me down to sleep” under the stars our souls to keep.

MD Bier is a binge reader and is an MFA candidate at William Paterson University.  Her writing reflects her passion for social change.  She’s been published in various literary journals and resides in NJ with her family and dog.

The Quigleys

Their abandoned action doll
bodies sprawled
across cobblestones

they had ridden the snatched bike
like time travellers
racing history

leaving an imprint of wheels
bucking bouncing
tyre over stone

speeding into the sharp turn
slide braking
the front wheel

locked as she knew it would
back wheel
in motion feet

rising from worn peddles
still life bodies hung
on a half breath

sunlit marionettes
tap dancing
in the void

Catherine Sweeney is studying for an MA at the London Poetry School, is a member of Hastings Stanza and has poems published in Between the Lines by CityLit, The Galway Review, Live Canon and Poet Town by Moth Light Press.

Love in the 80’s

It was the year of the Rubix Cube
& Fred Perry white polo shirts

The roller-disco          Life – La-La-La-La
I’d watch you from my bedroom window

Doing bunny hops on your BMX
Counting 1,2,3 like Hopscotch

Wheeling my shopper bike
Through the metal gate

Riding around the green
In the hope you’d notice

I’d graffiti my school book
I love Genna

Heart & cupid arrows
Dreamily dissecting a frog

You were sent to Ireland
To fight in The Troubles

The mines & steelworks all gone
It was the army or the Monger’s Yard

You came back hyem
Not quite the same

I still think of you
As that boy

Who changed
The colour of your hair

More times than I’d had hot dinners

Rachel Burns is published in literary magazines including Butcher’s Dog, The Rialto and The Moth, and Magma. She came second in The Julian Lennon Prize for poetry 2021, was longlisted in the National Poetry Competition 2021 and came second in the Disabled Poets Prize 2024 and winner of the Bylines Sky Hawkins Poetry Prize 2025.