I’ve been bargaining with the sun ever since
I can remember.
I’d sit by large windows as a child whispering deals to the clouds –
who had swallowed the sunlight in their passing –
to let yellow flood the world again.
I didn’t know the sun would return, regardless,
until hands had been shook – a deal cemented.
I’d lose a limb or two and repeat the process;
Nothing has changed.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.