1 poem

by Greta Mau

Washington Park High School

Fractures

In a dream, I bite into an apple and it shatters like glass in my mouth
In the next, I am drinking from a bottle and find chips of the neck imbedded in my gums
And all I can think of is
how you turn my dreams to glass,
how you turn my dreams into blood-spitting numbness.
You seem to weasel your way into everything I create.
But I must be too much like Icarus. Too greedy. Too awed by the sun’s rays for my
shabby wings to hold. I was blinded by its soft warmth and dropped by what I thought
was keeping me afloat. After hitting the water I gasped for air, only to spit out sea glass.
It is a curse.
But my dreams cannot be real
For my gums have not bled since I lost my baby teeth.
For my apples are handpicked from my backyard.
For Icarus was just an overzealous boy, weary for escape, unlistening to the words of
his like minded father.
Yet, in the mornings
I check my mouth for scars.
Yet when I smile at you, I still taste blood.