There lurks a dark man in my dreams. Do you know the type?
Gangly, ghastly, like shadows cast before day breaks into a sweat.
We try to rock ourselves back into silence and complicity. Meanwhile
I avoid his limbs from day to day, as they stretch out from underneath
School desks, book shelves, lockers and their innards, ceilings.
I keep a key in the heart of my throat. I keep a funeral drape
Over my peripheries. I am always mourning, thinking
Daddy was half-right; Life is short, maybe, but days like these
Are very, very long.
Regret could only dream of looking back half as far
As I can.
Pelumi Sholagbade is a high school senior from Washington DC. When not writing, Pelumi can be found reading, playing the cello, or failing to fall asleep at night.