the year ended with the month of the screaming parrots
in the morning. I cried two long rivers to put out the fire
burning the town beneath our feet. I remember you
as smoke filling a room. I bruised when your eyes
burned past me.

I feel less bony now. my mother’s tears are ashes
as she wonders why my tiny skin still cracks
at the seams. I scream I’m invincible and slam
the door, shaking the foundation made of my peeled
skin and cut fingernails and all the bugs we never liked.

I only froth when spoken to. I hold shards of glass
you gave me to the top of the flames. I make snow
angels under your window as you sleep. I give up
in the morning and return when the sky pulses
and the bugs return from disappearing.

Catalina Adragna is twenty-three years old and pursuing an MFA in poetry at Rutgers University, with an undergrad at Bennington College where she studied Poetry and Drama. She has previous publications in Silo Magazine. She is a Gemini and a pocha. Her Twitter: @catadragna.

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