War Zone
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
The Reserve Record 