Girl Potions

Lush daffodils sprout to be seen. Petals inflamed with

rain water exaggerate their scent into an April

morning air. The humid vessel of a bus contrasts sharply

with the unrestricted transformation of Spring’s plants

blooming outside. A wave of the hand a few rows

back-she summons me to my seat. I turn a blind eye,

choose a spot much closer to the driver. My sister’s with me-

better be safe. Besides, my grandma always told us

Jesus watches most closely in the morning. Our exchange can

go on after class, once it’s safe to hike up our skirts. “I think she

wanted us to go sit with her.” I shake my head, use my shoe to chew

the dandelion I picked moments earlier. Jesus won’t

witness a thing.

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