Misfire
BY CHRISTINA IM
Sunset High School, ’18
2016 Adroit Prize for Poetry: Honorable Mention
I wake spring-fisted; the hills are blameless
still. There are so many things
that should hurt me. My fingers, cold. His shadow,
not. Stone houses slouching
into burning. Time as it passes through his body—
& his body, not safe to touch,
even now. His eyes all tongue & everywhere
smoke. If these are not mistakes
what is. I can only pronounce the word together
in the dark. These days the sky
gapes open & I sit inside it for hours. The walls
are always drying. & I know
what to say about language: his hands. & the sun
grows afraid to talk back. & I
know what to say about knowing: if you let it
it will swallow you straight
into sleep. The earth keeps spinning & this too
is a story about hunger, about
the stains the air makes & my exhales, clouded.
A thousand traitors shifting
in the underbrush, the traces they never leave.
