16 years old


  • to be a person.


    i feel like time is dragging me along by the hand

    the way a mother tugs her child to preschool/

    but instead of kicking and flailing and screaming

    i am numb to the days that pass
  • unnamed

    note: i wrote this really quickly for a writing sprint in this summer program i'm doing online. we were given a list of words and then chose to write whatever we wanted while including all of the words.
  • After "How To Be a Person"

    I wrote this for an assignment in my English class. We listened to a spoken word poem, "How To Be a Person" by Shane Koyczan, and the assignment was to write a 5-stanza poem inspired by it, about how we can be better people this year.
  • barcelona as the muse

    the city is on your lips tonight
    as you die in a feverish glory. 
    the world is not yours for the taking: 
    you are too young to be broken. 
    i laugh and watch

    as you rearrange your life in circles—
  • Tarragona as the muse

    I'm told to write what I know 
    so here is what I know:
    I was scared of the man on the train, the one
    snorting lines between the cars.
    I was scared he would lose his mind
    walk out
    and make a tear through my heart 
  • Your death as poetry

    you are not the poetry i’m used to. you are skin and bones and all the things i cannot say because i am too afraid to admit them. i am a coward: i did not say goodbye and i knew i would regret it. 



  • instructions on growing up

    if you wrap your hand around your mother's wrist 

    your fingers will touch. how 

    do you come to terms with that? how 

    do you learn that your father's shoulders 

    can no longer bear your weight, can barely 

  • An Afternoon Moon

    Somewhere outside of Philadelphia,

    there is a small island in a

    pond shaped like a boomerang.

    When I tilt my chin to the heavens,

    I wonder which foolish god

    threw it to this barren part of earth?

  • hurricane

    there's a hurricane tomorrow, but we still 

    have school. hurricane, and you can smell it 

    boiling on the horizon, a heady, light-headed 

    sort of feeling, but my brother and i 

    sit together in the courtyard 

  • Cowboy, Come Home

    He is a toy cowboy on a horse 

    and is dragged off into the sunset 

    while my stuffed bunny heart 

    waits in the backdrop to be held. 


    Our God is the small Girl who hides 

    under beds when yelling strikes. 

  • ballerina in a music box

    anxiety goes tick-tick-tick 

    in the monochrome metronome of clockwork clicking 

    yet the key keeps turning, turning, turning, 

    'till creaking cogs are fit to crack 

    and gears wound up and ready to