The Girls at 8

The Girls at 8

My daughter and her friend
in matching culottes,
shirts knotted above the midriff
trying on their femininity like gaudy lipstick,
too bold for the occasion (a walk home from the food coop).
Hips swaying for two blocks,
a nod at what's to come too soon.
But the early spring sun is warm.
By the third block they are bare-chested, tee shirts tossed in the bottom of the buggy
little girl chests flat and strong, yesterday's fuzzy braids
slapping bony shoulder blades,
bare feet cracked and muddy.
Raspberry popsicle stains their faces--
The lipstick of the eight-year-old.

                                                -Jasmine P. Fowler