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makeshift

A poem of identity.

Henri Matisse

This is a poem that explores a sort of revelation about identity and growth. I wrote it this past summer, which was the summer I graduated high school. The transitionary period from a mild experience to the fast-paced structure of college served to be a difficult but a continuously growing moment.

 

how the air

grows thin like silk:

 

today there is no history

behind crushed lungs:

 

i have made poetry

out of my body.

 

without regard to my mouth,

(an indentation: crude. unprocessed.)

 

today there is no one left

to mourn the skin i have shed

 

the hours ripen

and carve fifty sons

 

out of unwrought concrete,

(a memorial: cemented. callous.)

 

today there is no poetry

behind white bone

 

only the dull finish

to the subdued intonation

of our misgivings.

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Written by Brittany Adames

Brittany Adames is a seventeen-year-old Dominican-American writer. She spends most of her time writing poetry or leaving short stories half-finished.

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