By Emma Kushnirsky (‘22)

Washed out
Yet alone
It’s a rap of
Stone on stone on stone on stone
If they saw me
Leaping free
They would only
See me
Of my mind
That’s not quite right
is it.
A rattle
Heard, unseen
From most sides
Experience of girl and woman
All alike
Don’t forget me
When done and hollow
Patient waiting
In your attic or your yard
Why is it
Middle name that defines?
Used most seldom
Wet with lies
Erosion carves away
Those happy remnants
No matter
Children scatter new ones
On the hour
I do wander
Eyes open
Soft gaze
Should I close them
To the same result
But maybe further still
I’d go
It’s of no consequence
To fans that blow
They desire a
False reality
Full of moments
Such as these
Can’t let it happen
On its own
Force it
And it’s all you’ll ever know.