Fern Abramson-Slater

I can change I can change I can change

I thought growing my nails out meant everything
would be in reach. I thought I might sand myself
into bullet points. I put lipstick stripes beneath
my eyes to better glare into the sun. I flipped my
skirt down against a highway’s indomitable wind.
I carelessly wrapped my mouth around strange
vowels and bought new shoes. I collapsed
across train tracks and felt a scar raise up slowly,
in a mountain range manner. This and more.
I drank my dad’s beer like it was high school,
I drank my mom’s wine too. I cheered and booed
when the right and wrong players took the field.
I took to the sidewalk, took to the season like a duck.
I fried things up in the pan. I grated, I stirred,
I sautéed. I lied when the truth would have done
fine and told the truth when nobody needed it.
I styled myself as hopeless, but I wasn’t. I had to
believe each time that my touch would be received
more gladly than all the previous times before.
People will clap as I enter the room. My heart can
be molded into the deadly arc of a diver's body.
There’s a bright comet of goodness to tailgate,
spooning music into my mouth all the while.

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Fern Abramson-Slater is a 4th year student at Oberlin College. You can find her work in Icarus Magazine, Scapegoat Review, The Plum Creek Review and scattered in zines around Portland, Oregon.