Finals
My surroundings have transformed into something else entirely
And I with that too
The initial “hello” feels different reviewed
It was what I read in a book at the West Street Library
It was loss of mystery, a let-down history
Like the first sighting of pornography
I was just a kid back then
Back when I was nine
An eye for space, gaps, and in betweens
An affinity for what’s unseen as told to me
The space between what’s thought and astrology
Between astronomy and birthday month idolatry
Home is houses’ ivy green stretched wildly
Not this dress rehearsal Ivy League
It was the sound of pens flown cross the whitened sea
Screaming till their voices hoarse
Goose bumps made me fail that course
Over and over
Crippled through my arms and chest
But what was once a lantern now is the sun in my forest
Sparks that raise towards the stars, their mother’s breast
Like pupils taking their final test