By Alyssa Trivett
I half-flutter like a bird with a broken wing,
caught in a spider web,
sinking in quicksand.
Any move or turn cauterizes the underbelly.
I kick sand in my enemy’s face,
swoop myself up,
and laugh victoriously,
Midnight blue, purples, and
Van Gogh yellow paint splotches
form on the arm and abdomen;
gym class sliding with one another.
the daily shots plagued you with them.
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