I dreamed of my elementary school

I’m on the red monkey bars again,
Skipping them in leaps of faith.
Confident and fearless.

When I lay atop them,
I wasn’t just okay but living. 
Floaters in my eyes, shifting against the cerulean.

We used to catch ladybugs in the mallow and burgrass. 
Before we counted them in vials and bottles.
4th graders squatting by the tracks, harboring secret ambitions to win.

After the bell, the creek was our backdrop.
We pranced down the rainbow road behind school.
My backpack ran alongside me, clacking over the lines.

Gazing from the bridge under the sun,
At my dark reflection eclipsing
between light and shadow.

The flickering points of light proposed to me.
And my heart danced in wonder,
Prolific like water striders and tadpoles.

I worried about nothing
Except for math tests and crushes.
Then the protagonist woke.

Up Too Late

Silent hours of the night, 
when the metro stops running,  
twin red lights glare through the glass, the cornea. 

High-pressure sodium gas 
sidewalks too glow chrome yellow. 
Mother always said don’t slouch. 
But no one’s next to me now. 

Fragile and drained 
I forsake the city on the hill, look up 
Too late, it doesn’t matter. 

Imagination spikes- yet I suppress, 
a hundred lumens saved for later. 
Not realizing it's perishable- the silence too. 

Still, I focus my earbuds. 
Ambiance, soft melody.

Depletion

Survival of the fittest is true.
Strength is physical, I know –the bodies left behind bear witness.
Chief says to offer our weak, to raise our cries.

Praises to The Sun, pray to spare the weak. 
Comfort is fleeting, so why do sacrifices matter?
We are not holy, yet The Sun receives our oblations.
Glory to The Sun, the strong control the weak. 
My people are condemned, why must we worship out loud?

The Sun penetrates my skin, I pray not my thoughts.
My dark form is reflected below me. 
I’m still capable of traversing the haze, of farming the radium pools. Until depletion.
I know. I know the law of the land, the rule of The Sun. 
But please, don’t take my sister next month.

Departures

You catch covid in your dreams, 
awakening with realization,
and it’s boarding time.

Departure nine is ready for take-off. 
You take photos, consuming endlessly until — 
sleep and the lights dimmed.

There's traffic in the air.
Thunder awakens upstairs,
rumbling like bombs.

The sudden turbulence flutters fear.
You forget to cover your face,
Don’t catch covid in your dreams.

Slide the blinds up.
Open your eyes, 
we are in the air.