Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Squeezing my life into a 4x4 cube

By
not inches,
feet.
Hinged top chest-high,
whirling with knots,
a glow imbues soft amber wood.
I’ve never used a drill before;
some screws go in angled, some not at all.
But I laugh.
Air suffused with ‘screw’ jokes,
we can fit six of our number into the box—
strange, because we’d otherwise find ourselves trying to get out.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback