16

16 is confusing the clock,

keeping one foot on your

front porch,

and letting the other hit the

gas.

recarving the lines on your forehead

adding.

(because he wants you to)

erasing.

(because you heard what she said)

It’s wanting more than you can have.

realizing that your hazel eyes are

brown

and still wishing they were

blue.

It’s fear and freedom and

fearing

freedom.

16 is knowing

everything.

except for what you

need to.

screaming out of car windows

gagging yourself behind closed doors

It’s being told that you’re 5’5

and that you won’t grow another

inch,

then going home and cutting your hair

because you can’t bear the

thought

of staying

how you are

now.

poem by caroline keir

lost in translation: 2018-19 Edition