Miss Daffodil

By Anastasia Farley

hovering over her steaming kitchen sink,

she filled jars with water and yellow petals

she shakes them, and they start to glow

the same color as the duckling she saved

homed within a shoebox,

it fluttered towards death fast but the way 

she petted its rapid-falling chest with the pad

of her finger...it could’ve saved them both

she shudders at chimney smoke, at bone-china white

rifles. She says they make her vision glisten like

expired meat. she pulls at me, filling my brittle

ribcage with her overgrown plumage. Her virtue fits

so snugly amongst my spine, i begin to smile

without covering my mouth.

Anastasia Farley is a sophomore Publishing and Editing and Creative Writing dual major with an Honors minor. When she isn’t running, she enjoys discovering new music, watching psychological thrillers and baking.