A Letter of Broken Ceramics
Let us crack open our tightly sealed ceramic molds,
and peer through the space at sunlight and rawness.
Let music fill your brain, tear your soul apart, and repair it again
as you watch stars in the space between midnight and waking.
I will cry with you as we listen to the static of the radio,
lying between stalks of corn
as the sun sinks below soldiers' tassels.
There will be time to carve our faces into smiles
before going to meet the others, so lie with me a moment,
and we'll watch the orange glow about the edge of everything.
Let us watch the goings on of life through cracks in window shades,
and rip the wood paneling from barn walls to let the sunlight in.
Watch me as I drop china dishes on linoleum tiles -
shards that fall away and crack into dust between toes.
I'll sweep them up, place them back in a cupboard painted white.
Press feet into soil and toes into sand,
sink yourself below sea shells and hermit crab holes.
Make eye contact across crowded rooms and hold it too long.
If you find someone who makes you feel safe,
wrap yourself up with them,
and whisper through the cracks in your ceramic molds.
If there is a world you would like to take me to,
let me see past crushed butterflies to setting suns,
and we will padlock wishes to a bridge and throw the key away.
One day, my shell will break off,
and I will walk with crunching under my feet.
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Kayli Wren is a seventeen-year-old writer in her senior year at St. Anne's Belfield High School in Virginia. She has previously been published in Teen Ink as well as anthologies connected with Tupelo Press Teen Writing Center and the Kenyon Review Young Writers Workshop. Kayli has been fascinated by the written word since Kindergarten and has recently been developing her love for both poetry and short stories. In her free time, when not writing, she enjoys watching movies with her family, acting in theater productions, eating pad thai, and baking lemon squares.