426 TRY
- 426 TRY
Was the license plate number of the mini-wagon bumbling
down the highway—past the old woman— with plastic bags ringing her arms
like bracelets—bags full of sweaters and Christmas baubles—begging
on the verdant boulevard—whose teeth could be my mother’s own—
brown like homemade caramels— brown like rotten fruit—forbidden fruit—
and because I sat on the bus I could not stop to hand her change—
and because the mini-van was caught in the momentum of TRY it could not stop
to hand her change—because no matter how many pennies
I plant like copper seeds in the gardens of hardened hands—
I won’t grow the sunflowers I promised—to my mother—on her 30th birthday. [End Page 50]
Halee Kirkwood is a queer writer of Anishinaabe descent working toward an MFA at Hamline University. Kirkwood has served on the editorial team of Aqueous Magazine, a Lake Superior region literary, visual, and performing arts publication. Kirkwood has recently published work with the Eastern Iowa Review and Strange Horizons.
