Brambleberries and Crutches
I see red, yellow, orange.
Polka dots clinging to your feet
like I attach myself to you.
Hook myself like your lemon candy cane
you left hanging and swinging on the handle of the car.
Someone said my hair was orange.
It really is,
but you beg to differ, for my sake.
My coffee cake never seems to make it up:
How I kill you.
All we ever do is suck on blow pops,
and discuss our lives without each other.
Leave more cracked,
disappointed each time.
Me and Ms. K
Me and Ms. K,
we match today.
Curly hair and all.
Wearing touches of gray.
Stockings black,
skirt and shirt black.
A gift, a burnt orange book.
Her face in the back.
Vertical lines.
Hers smaller than mine.
She says she’s under the weather
so we don’t use all the time.
We match today Ms. K and I.
Diamonds in my eyes
for the goddess of knowledge.
Always takes me by surprise.
Sirens Are Us
Beauty in the bleached jeans
come find
me in the cool waters.
Waves tickling my upper lip.
I watch you.
No, I won’t bite
and I won’t share.
Come play with me in the deep water.
Jump back with me.
Would you be my mold,
make me real
Blessed with beauty.
Hair flowing relentlessly.
Gods of the seas.
About the author: Holly Smith is a graduate of the English program at University of North Georgia. Her interests also include gender studies and creative writing. Her work has been featured in The Chestatee Review, S/tick, Pegasus, and The Voices Project.
