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Abstract

ll it all went.</i></p><p id="9f7b"><i>© Sherry McGuinn, 2022. All Rights Reserved.</i></p><p id="3b9b">If you can handle it, read every one of my stories and those of other fab Medium writers. I’ll get a couple of shekels and you’ll have full access to this whole joint! <a href="https://sherrymcguinn.medium.com/membership">https://sherrymcguinn.medium.com/membership</a> Or, fuck it.</p><p id="5483">And if this story gave you goosies, please check out the ones I’ve conveniently linked to, as well as my newsletter, <a href="https://sherryraw.substack.com/">Sherry Raw.</a></p><figure id="d3b2"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*RNImokTBfWurDIKu.jpeg"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><p id="4dcb"><i>Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.</i></p><div id="f7b2" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/boom-7859d4511fae"> <div> <div> <h2>Boom!</h2> <div><h3>Stand back</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*ux61mMGIwmxcnUl2URhRFA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="1f4e" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/eventide-a9a03ee6349d"> <div> <div> <h2>Eventide</h2> <div><h3>A navigation</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></d

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iv> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*KNCWYAI_d3HMFoBQADLJ_w.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="3665" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-wait-a5796d1b6e61"> <div> <div> <h2>The Wait</h2> <div><h3>A poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*iZ9Ms-VekKa1hRHDIIGD5g.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="cbbd" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/excision-5405e95eb4e7"> <div> <div> <h2>Excision</h2> <div><h3>Cut and run.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*IEMPtM1GSjrqeu_u8TqQRQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="163b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/honeysuckle-me-1f0c61626b4e"> <div> <div> <h2>Honeysuckle Me</h2> <div><h3>And I’ll drown in you</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*aT8iOfXOxSUG_QhKgvXtcA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

FREE VERSE

Reflector

On what comes back

Oh, summer. What happened to you? What happened to those long, languorous days when I felt like anything I’d ever imagined was possible?

When, from the moment I jumped out of bed until I returned to it, skin hot and burnished by the sun, my senses aflame, I never felt more alive.

When my parents, my two siblings, and I would spend entire days in our backyard, above-ground pool, of which my father took such scrupulous care.

When, back in the day, I still ate meat, and Dad fired up the grill as we kids sat in wait for the most amazing burgers, chops, and charred corn-on-the-cob.

When my friends and I bussed to the beach, homemade sun reflectors in tow, and gossiped about the boys we hoped would be there to ignore us…or pretend to.

When I felt my body changing in ways that both frightened and aroused me, and I learned what it meant to pleasure myself, alone in the dark of my room.

When my parents frequently engaged in long, boozy, and often vicious arguments that never failed to wake me in the wee hours, where I listened, expectant.

When the brother who I haven’t spoken to in seven long years, came home drunk and covered in puke and I cleaned him up and put him to bed…shhhhhhh.

When I never thought about what summer would be like, old as I am now, the days, like my own, shorter, and leaving me to wonder where the hell it all went.

If you can handle it, read every one of my stories and those of other fab Medium writers. I’ll get a couple of shekels and you’ll have full access to this whole joint! https://sherrymcguinn.medium.com/membership Or, fuck it.

And if this story gave you goosies, please check out the ones I’ve conveniently linked to, as well as my newsletter, Sherry Raw.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.