Spring 2025 - Vol. 22, Issue 2

I can feel the crack of the glow stick in my chest,

Chemical green oozes from one end to the other,

There are two people missing from the graduation party

And one footpath into the woods.

The dark is dominated by the wings of cicadas,

I nearly trip three times even with the dull pulse of light,

I left my glasses back at the school lost and found,

Without sight or sound I think I know what is coming.

They’re touching hands, lips, hips behind the crooked oak,

The girl I had a crush on back in 6th grade,

The boy I had a crush on in 7th,

I gently creep back through the undergrowth.

On the trail I have nothing to hold on to,

I bite down hard on the plastic and it gives and

Sputters bitter liquid onto my cheeks,

I cough and lean down to my knees and

Wait to see if anything swallows me.