86 JerseyBy: Abbie Leavens Girls know how to do that— Flaunt their breasts through their blouses, learn how to smile, how to sexy-scowl at the Neanderthal with the number 86 Jersey. He is staked, a little sweaty. His handprint, a coaster for the next Bud Light bottle. When he leaves for the bathroom to piss of his night he shoots you a look like you’d better not leave without me, but you do. This isn’t a happy ending, small town. You know he has your number. You know you answer every time.
The Ash GroveBy: Daisy Wallace
The ash grove we planted is still there;
Dirt under our nails, cricks in our backs, but
We planted all thoserows of trees that day.
They have grown tall with thick, rough, trunks.
The diamonds in the bark are all but gone,
the ridges so deep.
The Tin Lizze is still rusting in the tall grass, but
In a month, a man will come, take it to his garage,
Sand it down,
Rebuild the engine, and the rest.
I’m sorry, but
He will not paint it the pearl violet you always loved.