'Together You Try' by Louella Lester

You pluck out-of-tune songs on elastics stretched up and over the teeth of combs.  An unimpressive filter for the broken notes lingering in the darkening air. You dare each other to hold your noses and drink up strange concoctions of juice-ketchup-pepper or milk-mustard-salt in one long gulp. Not helpful for already unsettled tummies. You guess the words and shapes tiny fingernails trace on each other’s backs. The briefest of gentle distractions. Jump on the spring-poked mattress while swiping each other with well-used pillows. Not thick enough, when pressed against ears, to block out the rage seeping in under the door.