you: inaugurated

by Farah Ghafoor

your lips squeezed tight

around boys who bleed neon tail lights,
looking for your colour in rainbow grease puddles.

with a family, 80% holy water.

they say they slit their skin to open closets
and clean them out.

clothes hanging off you

like a scarecrow, scratchy and raw,
scaring all the neighbors away. 

a knight in scrap-metal armour,

with light slicing through the cracks.
everyone a dragon, and you the princess.

born in a supernova,

all fire and energy wasted on
fighting for a box on a passport.

Author Biography: Farah Ghafoor is fifteen years old and likes the way “poet” tastes in her mouth. Farah is a co-founder and an editor at Sugar Rascals. Her work is published or forthcoming in Alexandria Quarterly, alien mouth, Whirlwind, Moonsick and elsewhere. Find her online at