Roots

In the summer I drive in-land from the city on the coast,
to go looking for my roots
in the emptiness of the country. It is the first time I
have made this trip alone.

In my grandma’s town three strangers know me by name.
Two more call me by my mother’s.
The suburbs out here aren’t the same as back in the city. Nothing grows.
The white picket yards are landscaped with red dirt
and stones.

There are photos of a girl with my face in the halls at Grandma’s house-
all gangly and windswept with her hair pulled back
and red dirt on her jeans.

At first I think it is my mother,
but it is only me,
young                    and un-self-consciously scab-kneed.

By Aislinn Rose

Biography:

Aislinn is a twenty year old writer from the little city of Adelaide, Australia. She is studying Journalism at the University of Adelaide and works for a local non-profit community radio station. She writes and performs poetry in her free time and has been published by the university literary magazine. When she’s not studying, working, or writing, Aislinn can usually be found reading a book in some hidden-away nook of the library.