the blueshift journal

 

 

I name my reflection after the twin

who didn’t make it past the bus stop,

or pearly gates or whatever they call it

these days. my mother tries to make me

eat more before school, at school, after

school as if that would help me grow

another body that looks something

like a child instead of a memory, a ghost

who would at least smile and raise

her hand in class. I wear a phantom limb

as a locket: I know it’s a trend because of

the way people I don’t know clasp it

tighter every day, seeing if a girl will

pop out with a BOO as the punchline.