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A girl’s gray shirt swallows her entire figure,
her ragged blue jeans and holely soleless tennis shoes
wander aimlessly down the hallway. A lion scratches
at her heart. Students and teachers rush past her. Their faces blur
as the unforgiving ringing of the bell echos in her ears.
She feels like a full-grown elephant is sitting on her chest
as she blindly pushes open the door of the deserted bathroom.
Stumbling forward, she grasps onto the wet edges of the gray sink
so tightly her knuckles shine white.
A mirror reflects her now dull green eyes,
eyes that her parents constantly reminded her
were the spitting image of her grandfather’s.
I’m so sorry poppy but she’s not speaking to him,
can’t speak to him anymore, can only speak
to the reflection of him, the bit of him in her.