She picks up a stone, throws it at her old house and misses the window. The rock bounces off the side of the garage, and she cries silently and starts running down the street. She can’t even do this right. She can never do anything right. Do the new people living inside know? Do they have any idea? Can they feel the unhappiness in their new home still lingering, still lingering, sticking to the walls like yellow from cigarette smoke? Her teachers encourage her poems. They tell her to write what she knows, but she’s not comfortable enough for that, and so she smothers everything that she writes in metaphor until it’s barely there. The fingerprints left on the glass in the frame, the only proof that she saw and touched the thing.
released September 9, 2016
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