The day after things changed
It rained buckets
Bubbles floating across mirrored puddles
I woke in grey violet
And left my dreams in a hurry
A flurry of heartbeats
Racking the dreary room
I took a drag through the rain
To count my words
To spread
Water from the
Crease of my cheek
The bridge of my nose
A silent story of sorrow
I warmed a can of
Salty metal soup
Til it hissed at the corners and
Overflowed the bowl
Cloudy liquid growing cold
As it clung to my throat
I could not stand
Inside my skin
I could not stand my head
Through years
Of shifting loss
The same prayer flags still
Drip from my doorframe
Still tangle on the synapses
That lie between wake and dream
May I never settle
May I always have a song to sing
Maya Rabinowitz is a sixteen-year-old lover of music and avid reader of anything poetic. She lives in Philadelphia, PA, in a quiet neighborhood with her two moms and her dog Ollie. She spends much of her free time writing, and her work has also been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards.