The Reserve Record

The crying of orphans//

ribs punctuating with gnawing sobs//

fingers clenching around what doesn’t detonate//

eyes ghosting over a mother’s soft form turned perpendicular//

ears reverberating the sound of that last shrieking peal//

feet running, running, destination: unknown//

away from here//

eyes not tearing away//

body forming a pillar of pained salt//

crying

–Jasmine Wheeler ’20