Sydney Shaffer

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.