My dad beats his phone screen
with one finger.
Which erupts an earthquake in his hand.
His shaky hand that shaped my laugher but soon finished
after he plucked at my flaws.
In bitterness I mocked the way he typed on his phone.
We bickered till our mouths bruised.
We cherished it,
With many more whimsical arguments to come.
The Beauty of An Argument
Jamelah Carswell
32