By Jade Lozada (‘20)
Tremor of grey hair before my eyes,
Dip of doll skin,
Knob of my bone meeting
knob of my bone,
Agreeing not to push me
Forward, entwined.
In the space where tissue once lived,
A hush,
A silence.
An age sitting, thinking,
Can we push her further?
A life I never lived,
but thought I must live,
Knocking through my flesh,
But will a tremor disturb my silence?
The Speakeasy Magazine 