Lacuna
By Roopa, age 16, California
it is one of those nights
when the clouds can't swallow
their tears and the stars haven't
dressed the sky.
the spectral moon
dangles
with a half-heart pinned to its breast
and willows quiver
soft, muddy tears
in the thunder-clad night.
branches scratch at my windowpane
for someone to find them
and let them in.
and the tempest's eyes
spill emotions across my bones
and thick clamors
dig into my stark flesh
as if trying to find some kind of self.
stormy cries ebb,
recede...
and my skin hollows -
i have nothing to give.
lifting my face to the rain,
i watch the skies unfurl.
droplets curl around my cheeks
and the moon spins its frail skin
into midnight arms.
it is one of those nights
when i just want to drink
the storming sky
and crawl into the eyes of dusk,
to dovetail across night's tassels
and feel the world inside me.
