ellu

Hey, Mr. P,

I saw a paper airplane 
and remembered you.
It's been too long — 
my paper world rips;
these hands are painted with cuts.

Every Halloween, one house on your street stays dark; no lights, no candy, no decorations. The neighborhood kids whisper about it, daring each other to knock, but no one ever does.

I like to think I smile more when autumn comes

I caught myself grinning out the window

Trees back home don’t look like that, so full

A tree skirt has a Christmas connotation

But the middle of October brings its own

Body nested in the damp grass, 
the sky gazes over my skin. 
Feet pulled by the still stars 
while the earth keeps racing. 

Create

writing

medium or genre

poetry

body

this is my routine;

come home from school

open to this the first chance I get

write.

Write 

write 

write