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Amanda F., New City, NY

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Girl
layin her field
of sun and daisies picking
softly from the sky clouds
shehad molded in the back
of her mind some
time ago when stories still
hadbedtimes and promise
was packaged under trees.
Real snow made hercry
that one time when heaven
and soil were just one sheet
ofpaper.
She was always flying.
Lines creep and Girl rolls
back onto herticklish grass
under purple crows
and cream-crusted clouds
but daisiesare red
today
is the day of breaking
dolls in her pink peeling
roomhidden in the
years of sand
and swings
soaring so high she'd
forgetto land.








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