by Lisa Zou
Crustaceans chasse and tortoises pirouette, fumbling as poetic miens drown between the brinks of my lips. Yearning for my mother tongue, English hand-me-downs never draped my five feet sorrow precisely. Twenty-six figures engulfed in carrels mimic the too buoyant lady covering the dusty chalkboard. A cinder-block weighs on her palms as the figures recite of some path not taken. A road I refuse to cross deliberately; a pedestrian drinking the water of predictability, eternally sedentary in the midst of normality. She marks Charlie as exceptional, labels Karen as distinguished student, and deems Daniel extraordinary. Twenty-six figures attempt to juxtapose themselves against one another. My frame lodges itself to match the charcoal chalkboard. I took the traveled road of frosty lies.
Lisa Zou is a creative writing student at Mesa Community College. She has previously been published in the Paha Review and the Apprentice Writer.
October 14, 2015
Photo by: Gessy Alvarez