Twice, I heard them call your name—
three syllables stretched thin
so the sound could carry between branches.
But we were already deep in the woods,
kicking mushrooms
called overflowing slimy stem.
Since we carried no worries, our hands
were free to turn over rocks
in search of pill bugs, lizards, and snakes.
We tromped through the stream to our
meadow. We spied on deer and called out
to wild turkeys. You dared me to poke
my walking stick deep into the marmot den.
When our stomachs began to growl, we
turned back, recalling our adventure.
But when we got home they were mad
that we were dirty and hadn’t come
when called. Like dogs. So they
opened their hands, wide and stiff, and
gave us something to worry about.
–
Erika Seshadri lives in Lamy, New Mexico. She is a 2025 Best of the Net nominee. Her first book, HIMALAYAN TSUNAMI (Memoir; Austin Macauley Publishers; Erika & Niranjan Seshadri), won a 2024 BookFest Award and is currently being adapted for film.
© 2025, Erika Seshadri
Halfway Down the Stairs 