Poetry by Grace Tran
the grass is burnt yellow, left to dry in the august heat
crunching under the soles of black sneakers and pink flip flops;
it feels bristly, like a man’s unshaven chin
and bends swiftly with the gentle breezes,
sharp tips poking at ankles
like nature’s sun-baked swords.
we were reckless with our time in those days
when the sun lingered in the sky
beating down on our faces- eyes closed, smiling,
stealing kisses behind the barn with peeling paint
the classiest of joints for sure,
the perpetual taste of smoke reaching down our throats
as we crushed the cigarettes with our bare toes
and watched the embers glow and fade
laughs dripping off our lips like melting popsicles;
we didn’t think- didn’t need to think.
were we innocent,
thinking that love meant sharing bite-sized m&m’s
and that family never left, thinking that
summer evenings were made for late night movies and
ice cream under the dusky sunset, the
kindergarten-crayon-sky,
for reading the graffiti on the streets, sharp-edged lettering
that made us wonder who we were?
seventeen steps this way to the duck pond,
nine that way to the hot dog vendor
(he doesn’t speak english, doesn’t
understand that you don’t want
sauerkraut but he does make one
mean bratwurst).
any step will take you somewhere
but an arrival does not mean
destination:
will you wander
forever?
twenty-eight steps to the right:
i find tiger lilies under the flagpole
orange petals spotted with dark, round speckles
ready to be plucked by a beautifully chubby
five year old in pigtails with
dozens of freckles to match
and i wonder-
could our lives ever be as vivid as a flower’s?
Grace Tran has been nationally recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards and was a 2017/2018 national and “Best of Issue” winner of the American High School Poets “Just Poetry” quarterly contest. She has been both a runner-up and fiction grand prize winner of the Scholastic Kids are Authors contest. She has also had works appear and forthcoming in The Pangolin Review and Polyphony H.S.