by Gloria Mindock
In 4th grade, I had a navy-blue pleated skirt. I wore it in high school. It still fit. When I threw it out, it was still in perfect condition. Now, many things push my body to flatness. It is difficult to squeeze into life. Rain, storms, hit my skin until lightning bursts out of me. I feel half brilliant and half on a current taking me somewhere. Balancing, my mouth calls out to the hunters. This is the way it will always be, even in death, me smashed by the void, continuously making loud chicken noises from my red lips.