Gali

you are an ocean, 

a transparent abyss of blue 

that could swallow someone whole,  

waves battering against thick grains of sand. 

you are a battlefield, 

I’m four years old and it’s pumpkin season again. 

I’m holding tightly to my best friend’s mittened hand 

and feeling the wind whipping at my face, 

turning the tip of my nose pink, 

Blue doors

Hard, cold white tiles lined with blue ones 

Walls painted a bland white

This is my cage.

tell me I cannot drink the air; 

yet the smoke on the horizon curls like a finger, 

inviting me to taste February in the wind 

and know time is running out 

I was gifted with four and a half senses

The first was the gift to see the world

Opening my eyes 

Seeing the sharp lights 

Blinding at first

Enemy

That word is used so easily nowadays

To describe your literacy partner who didn't do all the work

That girl who you see EVERWHERE

Even at the grocery store

Who always seems to beat you at everything