A brief ease —
found in vivid blue
with arms of
deceiving light.
hands strike
into a dark haze
left with
a lump of coal
in my throat.
I gnaw at the skin
near my nails
Where does my head go
when I rot?
Did Andrew Tart notice how
I pronounced “ethereal” wrong?
A cruel virus —
glued into the
depths of my DNA.
James Bowie High school
12th
