so this is how life passes at fifteen:
we wake up to the violent moon,
breaking window panes and shredding
plastic blinds. our bodies are sandbags
holding back the Mississippi, stripping off
clothes that wrap like peeling wallpaper
around our skin, pounding beaten sneakers
on icy sidewalks that reflect the sky.
our days are clockwork— only the sun
changes its angle when it rises over
treetops and townhouses. we are trapped
in timepieces, the ticking a soundtrack
to the story of our life. we dream
of large cities and a bigger world.
as the sun spills watercolors on its
canvas tonight, we are praying for escape,
wondering where our future leads,
if we can leave this town, if we
are one of the lucky ones.