There is no way to move the body. Not nearly
enough force to unfurl the soft pleats of this
pinafore dress, nor enough velocity to chase
the sullen bay. A teacher once told me to look for
constants, inertia, paralysis. Forgive me that
I pray instead for girlhood and immortality, dream
of the sweet lilt of birdsong on the rocky crags.
I want the world to be unspent and unaged, for
Newton to prefer poetry over postulates. The
teacher draws a free-body diagram, or perhaps it is
the beach where I colored the sails and the
seagulls answered my call. I still remember all the
lyrics, I promise, but the wind twists the lullaby,
knots it in my throat.
Vivien Song is a high school junior from Pleasanton, California. When she’s not cramming for calculus, you can find her bullet journaling in a coffee shop. She hopes you’ve had a great day so far.