Snarl
F. R. Rosario
Snarling. Totally underrated. Just call me your snarling. When you’re snarling, the whole world snarls with you…and yes, I guess my hair might be the color of earth waiting under leaves all winter, and okay, so my lashes are like bits of crow sitting on snow or wisps of hair stolen from the heads of eskimo babies, like my auntie always says, and sothehellwhat if I’m an iroquoiswhitewesternnewyorkstylepuertorriquena and what if my eyes are the color of coca-cola, and so so so, who who cares if that’s what I drink for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and oh oh oh, don’t tell me no, because I already know it will catch up with me and rot my teeth and cripple my skin, but right now, I don’t care about anything but the fizz and promise and absolute snarl of being thirteen.
Frankie Rivera-Rosario has a big heart, a creative bent, and a mile-high attitude. She attends John Marshall Jr./Sr. High in Rochester, New York.
