Two: Corner by Livia Blum ‘19

Two

Corner This air is thick. Hard to breathe air. My words shiver, suck life in through their teeth. My feet hurt. My eyes ache. Blue pen smudges my hands. The memory of something beautiful. I miss Blue. I miss my left hand. I miss the young-ness of murmuring forests and the way the world Swayed green. I miss the fairies. I miss the fairies and their bells. This morning I saw a hawk on a wire. We stared at each other a long time. I knew that when he spread his wings, the mountain would shudder. Perhaps fairies come in different languages.

There is blood under my nails. In my throat is a childhood scream. A lost dream scream. An ‘I was once wild’ scream.

There is nothing today. The bread in our cabinet is going stale. I blink for fairies. Sometimes I see blue in the corner of my eyes. But when I turn –Well.

Only a coyote can wail the way I want to wail. Young, blue, haunting.