Gravity

by Shelly Parenti

One day the sky
cupped my kite
in a whirl of
mauve and blue.
My sister laughed
and questioned
its flight.

We raced to the truck
enjoying an ocean of
green and yellow as
the tall grass tickled
our chins.

Our feet dangled
from the open bed.
Warm, dusty, wind
whipped our hair
as our father drove.

I saw her fly,
my sister,
splashing
muddy clumps
into the air.
It reminded me
of my kite —
only broken.