She left me with red
letters that looped like hair
ribbons, wild

rice, pinto beans and a handful
of raisins, she wrote, whatever
you got. I got nothing

but a stale peppermint
fished from the cup
holder and the thought of her

flying home to hot
scrape and clap of the curler,
like a bat outta Hell,

to the Fibonacci top
to Organza perfume. Flying
in our Sunbird, blue

like the cornflowers that cropped
along our gravel drive, the ones
she used to pluck with fingers, blackberry

stained, and say
These are exactly, dollbaby,
the color of your eyes.

 

 

 

Erin Traylor lives in Maryland with her boyfriend and three cats. A senior at Salisbury University, she pursues her B.A. in Creative Writing and volunteers as the managing editor, assistant poetry editor, and assistant nonfiction editor of SU’s literary magazine. She loves peppermint tea and moss terrariums. She is an ardent feminist and rookie seamstress.

 

Cassoday Harder is a twenty-year-old photographer inspired by youth, femininity, and summer. View more of her work on Flickr or visit her website.