Lightning streaks
across charcoal sky.
Little boy squeezes
his eyes closed.
He pulses his worry into his mom’s hand,
thuds his cheek
into her chest. She pats his back
from top to bottom in patterns of four.
He inhales for two, exhales for two.
Her patting slows.
Thunder’s groans move away.
The little boy stands, signs go outside,
tilts his head in a question.
His mom smiles, signs yes,
zips his blue rain coat,
pulls the hood on. He splashes
in gutter waves,
looks up, signs water
more water fun play,
his hands a tangle of words,
his eyes slits of delight.
Shawna Ervin has an MFA from Rainier Writers Workshop in Washington state. She was a finalist for Kenyon Review’s Developmental Editing Fellowship in 2024. Recent publications include American Literary Review, Mom Egg Review, Seneca Review, Blue Mesa Review, Sonora Review,and elsewhere. Shawna lives in Denver with her family.