gravel.

From the Archives: "Hand-Me-Downs" by Sarah Dravec 

4/29/2015

0 Comments

 
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.
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    About

    Gravel is a literary journal edited by students of the MFA program in creative writing at the University of Arkansas at Monticello.

    Cover image by T.M. Lankford
Photos used under Creative Commons from Bambi Corro, onnola, SebastianBartoschek, Hernan Piñera, comedy_nose, ComputerHotline, michaelmueller410, Alexandre Dulaunoy, Theme Park Tourist, quinet, roseannadana: Back on my home turf, grits2go, Arian Zwegers, quinn.anya, MikeSpeaks, Kim Gunnarsson, p.langerz