write this
emmer effer
a pretend genius broadsuction
some days are better than none
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Sarah Yeoh-Wang
Class 11
The Chapin School
Teacher: Jonathan Wilcove
Mirrored Past
She could look up at the sky at night,
And a thousand stars would bewitch her,
Teasing and prodding,
Until she tumbled from her bed into the sky,
Flipping and cartwheeling among the clouds
In the way she’d always wished she could.
Stars spun into pinwheels:
She blew,
And the clouds twined themselves into a harmonica,
Effortlessly breathing out lazy rhapsodies in to the night air.
Bare trees sheathed in holiday lights
Reached out to her, claw-like-
The hands of drowning men.
She snapped the bulbs as she somersaulted along,
Popping each sphere like bubble wrap,
Buzzing hisses fizzing through the air as she extinguished each light.
When she righted herself,
Seeds of silvery light cascaded down her back,
Flaring against the cement where they burst open like petals,
A dazzling fractal unfolding against dull gray,
Blossoming like bacteria in a petri dish-
A cure for cancer? A remedy for AIDS?
She reached for the unattainable and tucked it in her pocket.
With her thumb, she could blot out countries,
Rubbing out delicate borders,
Leveling mountains until everything lay flat.
A pinch, and Pangaea was reformed.
The continents melded perfectly,
Slotting together like the pieces of a puzzle.
With her eyes, she could trace foggy outlines:
Sometimes a woman balanced confidently,
A graceful leg extended in an arabesque;
Other times, slender fingers pressed against a canvas,
Brushing Charcoal against eyes fringed with long lashes.
As she twirled around to meet those future selves,
Stars crystallized around her body—
Hollow shells like the sugary casing of gumballs
Cracking with time until all the remained were
Broken constellations the she connected with her littlest finger.
Now when I look up at the sky at night,
And search to link stars into familiar patterns,
The figure break;
I instead see a helicopter winking away,
Silently scattering light in its wake.
