The nauseous breath of change blows bravely
into my warring heart, saying gravely
I have a greater calling
outside my parents’ house where the garden
dies annually, a sickly warden
of youth, ever stalling.
I pray to a different God today
than yesterday, a funeral away.
This God sends me spinning
into adulthood with a Dev’lish wink.
Not ready, I bend over the kitchen sink
a child, a coward, a beginning,
seeing nothing but distorted distortion;
potential fleshing out of proportion.
But then!
I see a vision perfected.
One day
I’ll come back with mask of sagging skin,
stomach settled, and I’ll see the garden
Die and be resurrected.
Elaina Perpelitt is a student at Chapman University. When she’s not writing film and play scripts, she’s writing poetry and novels.
