I could never be angry with the daisy
growing unseasonably in my front yard.
My mother loved daisies, and my mother is dead.
I do not plan to put on these pajamas. I plan to stay
naked. I am my mother when I am perusing
the grocery store floral department. The cashier
can think what she wants. Wearing her old clothes
gives me panic attacks. I get my mother's panic attacks.
I do not need these roses. I thought to plant them, grid-like,
along an interstate, but I need this soil to cover myself.
I am very angry. My mother was never angry.
Today was the wrong day to wake up in the grass.
Sarah Dravec is a graduate student in the NEOMFA in Akron, Ohio, where she studies poetry. She is a poetry editor for Barn Owl Review. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in And/Or, The Bakery, Dressing Room Poetry Journal, and Josephine Quarterly.