Your smile is longer than the distance
between sky and soil.
Eyes a blue-tinged smoke at their edges.
I can’t see through them.
You find refuge in your sparks of hunger,
but you eat so much you might be eating
Somewhere on the shores
of your acid words
if I walk far enough,
I think I might see some island of water.
I dip my fingers in the water.
You are a broken mirror, but I still see you
when I stand before it. It hurts to say—
I don’t want to become you.
That my skin is dry means don’t touch.
Don’t touch the water.
Jenny Shi is a senior at Palo Alto High School in California. A recent graduate of Fir Acres Writing Workshop, Jenny has blossomed into the world of poetry. Prior to that, she won a Scholastic Art & Writing award for a nonfiction essay (she prefers poetry). Additionally, she is a visual artist whose knowledge of the sciences seeps into her brushes. Jenny speaks three languages: English, Mandarin, and Spanish, and her favorite food is any kind of noodle.