by Victoria Gonzales
People love talkers;
not skinwalkers with mouse pelts,
afraid to be human and seen,
dreaming cornea was sewn
from fabrics of night. So a person
could be an island ‐ quiet as sand.
It’s true I’m only small and colored,
silent like punctuation…ellipsis
for the more intelligent.
And it’s true, only a Kind was
made for this Earth.
A Kind: a cream white musculature,
preferably made to enter
more than just this dying atmosphere.
Or the long‐limbed and soft‐curved,
with cake‐batter hair and a cookie‐cutter
face, cheeks rounding the bottom
of a heart beating European blood.
Loud and skin stained sunset
in the summer with stripes of
star‐white ‐ an American flag.
God’s country, God who wrote
Bibles for them and was
made in man’s image ‐
never seen, but drawn
as pale as his creations.
Me vs. the world,
face without lips with
tropical tints, quietly writing
out a space for myself.
Like carving a crater
through forests, and
I am invasive.
Author Biography: Victoria Gonzalez is a junior at South Brunswick High School with
strong passions in writing, reading, and music. She enjoys watching movies, traveling, and
going out with friends. In the future, she plans to major in linguistics and help those with