Sophia P Smith

Nanticoke

Palms and fingers crest over soil, careful not to bruise
the mother. Dirt is warm and opens
like a cupped hand, tobacco and sunflower
mulched between cornrows, speckled beans
spiral up the base, pumpkins braid around the orange
of ribbed squash to dry and store for the colder months.
Willow and cane stretch beneath green
liquid muck, dotted with pearly bodies of
shads flashing in the reed. The river eyes 

a ship as it moors midstream. Her name is stolen
in silence when English tongues twist and drop
syllables. They watch from the coastline, peering
through trees until muskets gloss the water
and they vanish in the afternoon, leave nothing
but footprints of shells and beaded glass.

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Sophia P Smith has loved to write since her earliest memories and is now pursuing a minor in creative writing at Salisbury University. Her work has also been published in Hawaii Pacific Review, Third Wednesday Magazine and Oakland Arts Review.