Girl Anthems

The compact opens with a little click.
A fingertip makes winter change its mind.
Cream turns to powder, soft against a cheek.
The mirror tries the summer shade this time.

A red dress waits beside a crown of snow.
Scranton still sparks beneath the studio glow.
The same face turns; the lighting rearranges.
The picture holds. The woman in it changes.

Outside, a rose-metallic truck rolls by;
the woman at the wheel has caught the eye.
A pink Bronco brings 17 the keys;
her best friend calls the passenger seat hers.
There’s coffee, there’s a playlist, there’s a street
about to learn the chorus, word for word.

Along the boardwalk, sunlight meets a shift:
an apron, then a spider-suit at night.
2 sisters take their laughter out to sea;
the yacht leaves little fractures in the light.
The song forecasts 100 million: rain.
A Bible shares a headline with the name.

Inside, the seasons fail to settle down.
Summer plants her hands and flips the room.
A hoodie wears a halo past the couch;
a vow of silence somehow starts to boom.
Then Camilla brings a foot into the frame.
The perfect pose will never be the same.

Julia’s put a tax upon the snacks.
The group chat fills with plans to take them back.
A Viking ship sails into someone’s braids;
the comments launch a fleet of counter-raids.
They quote the post to prove it shouldn’t spread.
The post acquires another life instead.

Now Cyan’s getting roasted. Take a seat.
The comic clears his throat; the room goes still.
The insults turn to praise before the beat
can drop. The roast has lost the will to grill.
Then Megan’s candles ask for cooler work.
The mirror quits. The thermostat goes berserk.

The hands that strike a pose can change their grip.
Chalk marks a palm; a gymnast starts to flip.
The balance learned upon a narrow beam
finds room in contracts for another’s dream.
At 23, a birthday takes the court;
the girl who runs the meeting takes the shot.
A dance begun at 3 becomes a stage;
the early steps are in the ones we watch.

A minute starts. The coffee’s barely poured.
Lea has explained the chain; they ask for more.
A selfie gathers people round its frame;
Irene makes that gathering a door.
The people watching find a part to play.
A picture gives them somewhere they can stay.

Once, kerosene lit up a mountain shelf.
A child reached for a book and read herself
beyond the room. Years later, markets flare;
500 missing still commands her care.
A student needs it back. She follows through.
The smallest figure has a person, too.

And Gwynne has calls to make before the flame:
a customer, a contract, cargo, crew.
The countdown gives the waiting sky its cue.
The launch depends on work outside the view.
A lamp stays on above a page of law.
3 failed attempts. She opens it once more.

Beside the lip gloss, flashcards form a stack.
A nursing text lies open, spine bent back.
The highlighters have organized the heart
in colors she can tell by glance apart.
Tomorrow, knowledge leaves the paper chart
and meets a person frightened in the night.

A magazine can catch a certain light.
A steady hand can feel a pulse beneath.
What would you do? The question leaves the pose
and waits beside the person trying to breathe.
The same hands turn a page, adjust a sleeve.
No single picture tells you what they know.

A woman who was bullied starts to speak.
The dance that brought the audience gives way
to something someone needs to hear that week.
They play it twice. They find a way to stay.
The screen that made them feel so far outside
has someone on it sitting on their side.

Back in the house, the birthday music starts.
São Paulo finds Miami in the bass.
Camilla’s brother knows that look too well;
a prank is forming on the goddess’s face.
Aishah turns a hallway to a runway.
A girl watching moves a chair aside:
3 feet of carpet, just enough to practice,
then room enough to find a different stride.

And now the emerald feathers catch the light.
Miami’s 1st walk leads to a New York night.
The racer follows; white will close the show.
3 looks. 3 ways the story gets to grow.
The camera knows the face, adjusts the frame.
The woman brings another meaning to the name.

Hold still, the picture seems to say.
She turns.

There’s something just beyond the shot
she wants to see.