On the way home
from Tina’s detention, air smokes
like fire ate flowers, a whole field
of wild, colors stolen for ash.
“Why on Earth did you swallow those moths?”
Tina’s mother asks.
“You ate Lee’s entire science project.
All stages!” she exclaims,
before the car returns to silence.
Tina remains numb like words
were never invented. No, like words
were invented once, but confiscated.
“To feel something,” Tina thinks, then whispers
to her reflection in the window.
“Grandma said I could be anything.
I want to be the light.”
— REECE ROWAN GRITZMACHER
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