By Annabelle Fields 

the skeleton is shaking
wind hits every brittle bone and whistles
whipping here and there

it is loud under your toes
your feet scream
nowhere to sleep

the pedestrians are staring
through the sun streaked window
at your naked body
and you are 

blinded down the stairs
like they are a slide,
like you are a hockey puck

outside, your breath
is a whale call
and everyone turns around
unbelieving the putty
between the slits you made
while slicing something
meant to be broken like bread 

money hungry it’s not fair
the sound a bee makes
patting against the glass and falling

by Alicia Persaud