Sophie Lynne Creations

The lid pops off
And his eyes spit sugar
Fifty-three and giggly
My dad passes me a new jar–
Strawberry
From the front of the row
Sneakers squeak on the speckled linoleum
Grocery store radio singalong
He sticks a finger in the next jar
Mixed berry
Teasing a plop, teetering

Its fall- intercepted by his tongue
The kind with a split right down the center
The kind that catches everything sweet
Collecting and funneling the type of words that have less of a home
In my brother’s mouth
Words that fail to pool unless they find
Valleys like my dad’s that may flood with stickiness

I twist my jar open
Blackberry
I balance a scoop on my index finger
Before squishing and pulling it down my tongue
Surprised by the smoothness that my finger traces
My jars go back behind the others
So we won’t get caught
But my dad just laughs: jelly wobbles