Yearbook staff ’s on board
with the outer space idea.
They brainstorm like lightning:
classes in constellations,
faculty in rocket ships,
give each Senior an astronomical mission.
Somehow the theme has given them inspiration—
they draw and choose and pick and label.
As they work,
I feel myself floating
above them,
like Cassiopeia
hanging upside down
in the fall sky.
Try and keep myself focused, occupied,
anything to be away from home.
They ask if I want to see their work,
if I need to check it, I wave my hand, say it looks okay.
They ask questions over and over,
I have no answers, I shrug, say whatever.
After they’ve left:
My eyes wander over
their neatly laid piles of layouts,
pause at the one they worked hardest on,
a “field day fun day” collage.
Everyone looks so happy, carefree.
I crumple each corner.
Make a tiny rip through the center,
then keep ripping it to bits.
|
Eyes. |
Hands. |
Hair. |
Just shreds of people
scattered at my feet.