Kaylan McCann
Go play in traffic, my father said, shaking a Dogfish Head at me. I crawl out of bed, grab my sidewalk chalk and Mimi’s china, always tucked behind the ziptied cupboards. In red, I scratch a hopscotch right in the middle of the highway. I walk the double yellow line like a tightrope with my teacups and saucers, a glass pagoda. He used to take me to the circus, where the human cannonball rocketed into the gunpowder-spritzed air and the flier girl chalked her hands to tighten her grip. I just watched the candy butcher crimp saltwater taffy wrappers, Hershey bars, and peanut packages. I gathered the discarded casings, my father too spent for any more ammunition.
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Kaylan McCann graduated Frostburg State University with a bachelor’s in English and two minors, Spanish and creative writing. She writes poetry and fiction. She has an orange cat named Link who is as adventurous as his namesake. Trying every AriZona ice tea flavor is on her bucket list.