You, carved against the constellated sky
and crying to the moon
You raise your arms and fly
Wingless
Your eyes starlit sparks
Midnight hair streaming out behind you
and pearly skin glowing
in the night.
By day you are pale
And wear jeans and a gray t-shirt
And press yourself into the far back corner of the classroom;
Your hair is wooden
like the school desks
and the floor
and the walls.
No one mocks you anymore
for your hair or your clothes or your shoes
No one sees you anymore.
You sink into your desk
Disappear
Even your scent
is of paper and pencils and white-out
Indistinguishable from the classroom.
You don’t know
That I have seen you in the dark light
Night air, smelling of fireflies and dew,
swirling around you
Moonbeams painting your skin
Your image outlined in the stars
Your wooden hair
flowing in the night.
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2 comments:
Hi Emily,
Maybe the title could be the subject's name?
When I read it, and read it again, I wonder about what the subject looks like at night - I get the "glowy" feel but not much else..."midnight" hair - what's that? I sense that there is a contrast to the paleness of the daytime, but I don't quite see it.
Keep going, keep examining this person and the air around them and everything else. Write some more and even if you take out 95% of it, the remaining 5% will enrich the poem.
I feel like the title should be something contradictory. Like something about her two contrasting identities, boring and remarkable.
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