I remember the light of childhood.
We would gather together and clap our hands to a song.
The world was simple and love was for princesses,
which we wanted to grow up to be.
Middle school turned out privates into bleeders
and our thoughts into curious felines.
It wasn't long before we bloomed into
delicious fruits that our counter
parts planned to pop.
We remember our firsts,
We remember our seconds.
And all we ask in return is to forget the
ones that couldn't care to remember us.
Time we hear. No it's not time,
It's a long pilgrimage for the big at heart.
We leave so many...
I walk along the beaten path of those before me
and hope that one day I too can be free.
Making The Best Of It.
All this green creates a rewind button for eyes only.
Tree after tree and needless meadow...
grass as far as the trees and bushes will allow.
Can I get a four leaf clover?
So maybe I can fast forward?
-Nah, now is not the time. I have more to do here in this state.
On a cloudy afternoon, I sit in the backseat of my car
wishing for weed and thinking of nice things that are not green.
Little by little
Small bits raped by time
Over and over until…
23 suits me like 80 as
Why just yesterday,
I could not remember his dog's name
Or the way he phrased things.
For a moment in time,
There was no more
Slithering, sinister, sense of
whatever he was.
One day I will forget his
Face and no longer cringe
When looking upon a fellow
Not unlike himself.
Shaquana Adams is a graduate of Francis Marion University. She has been published in several literary magazines and journals such as The Snow Island Review, The Bicycle Review, Napalm and Novocain, Twenty Something Press, and The World of Myth. Outside of poetry, she enjoys yoga, crocheting, and reading novels in her spare time.