Starchy blouse. Heavy case. Deflated ball. Forgot.
Barrette, hard on scalp. Pin curls, safe? Buzz.
White rim, white sandal, no sand. Yet. Waxy
palm, waxy palm gloss on new Caddy, fits six—
plenty comfy. Don’t pick on your sister. Not
comfy. Box of toys. Wicker bag, where are
we going? Beach? Where’s Dad? Mad men.
Remember the life jacket. No swimming then.
Wide wheel, tight tubes. Hold me up.
Drown. Drown in your expectations.
Drown in your ability to unpack the packed. Are we
Lili Gourley is an English (creative writing) major with a focus in poetry. She comes from Palmyra, New York, where there’s not much to do but be creative. She has had poems published in Gandy Dancer, ANGLES, and Iris Magazine. Her most treasured possession is the ever-growing pile of books that is beginning to engulf the entirety of her room.