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The Lawn Mower This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

A terrible smell,
Known to pit crews and mechanics around the world,
Fills our humble garage.

Tears of gasoline spit in an angry rage,
And a volcano of smoke erupts.
“Kill it,” my father motions with a wave.

A deafening silence hangs in the air
As we stare down our unbeatable foe,
Coughing and sputtering back at us.

Despite our best attempts,
He's a cantankerous old man
Who won't cut our grass.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.




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