See a Daisy, Pick it Up
The first time I fell down, I had my father
to pick me up. My knee curdled into red jelly pieces,
and my tears started to roll. Drama queen
my sister shouted. From then, I promised
to never play in the rain anymore.
I sat on the benches as my cousins
threw around a muddy soccer ball,
splashing wet dirt, neglecting each and every rule.
They called me referee. I watched
the sky meet the clouds which morphed into mud
caked onto the wings of a honey bee. I remember the walking
and tripping and falling,
and not having my father to catch me anymore.
A daisy padding my scarred knees as I crashed
off my scooter on a bright day. There is something
about the throbbing, I do not remember.
I knew when it started to rain every day, I would have to
break my oath and swallow my crystals.
Protect me from the tripping and falling and
pad my face, so when the soccer ball came at it full force
I’d be left with just a bruise under my eye. Tough bitch
my sister shouted. From then, I promised
to ache and trip and fall and
smell the flowers on my way to the ground.
Sydney Shaffer is a junior Creative Writing major at SUNY Purchase. She loves cats, coffee, really long walks in the snow, and poetry.