No fingers remove the husk
Unscathed. In death the spines

Of fish still purple cheeks.
It’s the unspooling, reaching

Back with blackened hands that
Crosses time. Recall, softening

Edges of mailboxes with
Banana leaves. Smearing golden

Grounds of coffee in fat-fingered
Spells across our foreheads

Wiggling eyebrows in unmatched
Certainty, waving through

Squares of yellow light that were
Once enough to hold each other


Maya Renaud-Levine is a senior at Beacon High School, born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. She has a passion for podcasts, politics, singing, and playing the piano, and will never turn down a good crime novel. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in The WEIGHT Journal, Idle Ink, Eunoia Review, Blue Marble Review, Girls Right the World, Recenter Press, and Truant Lit, and she is a national winner of the American High School Poets’ JUST POETRY!!! the National Poetry Quarterly.

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