Fainting Goat

Once, we met. 

My hair was up, and the world was coated with snow,

and you

 talked to me with wide blue eyes

and a slippery smile, easy to fall into.

There’s this song,

Slipping Through My Fingers.

By ABBA. From Mamma Mia!

That's how I see it.

Our rights.

“I try to capture every minute.”

The erosion of rights towards marginalized groups feels like a personal attack on the values of equality, fairness, and justice that have importance to me.

With voices like flint against steel,
we strike against the silence,
catching fire – not to burn, but to blaze a path forward.
We are not the dying cinders of something lost,
but the first furious glow of something rising.

When I think about tomorrow, 

I see the calculus test I have not studied for 

and the five overdue assignments with long-received