So I’m waiting for a night to cover
this night. So I’m waiting for absolution.
Only nine fingers left to make use of, I hurtle
each perfect failure at the horizon,
form my lips out of impressions stuck
beneath my eyes. What’s left
and left behind. What was never ours
to begin with, never could have been.
It sounds like loneliness, if you
could believe it. It sounds like
no one to pull you from the car wreck,
no one to pull you from your mother
milk-hungry and made to last. Tell me
how everything demands a finish
brighter than its beginning. Tell me
it was always going to end like this:
your sister finding my new phone number
on the internet, the invitation
she did not want to give and I did not want
to accept. Whiskey I poured out of car windows
seeping into the ground. Somewhere very far
from here, your body finding land again.
If there was ever a part of me that knew
it would come to this, I never feared it.
The inevitable. The hands always
reaching. The mouth still curved around
your own name as if willing yourself
into the cloth of memory.
Nikki Velletri is a high school student from Massachusetts. Her work has been recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards and can be found in Words Dance.