The key to open up tomorrow is reality
by Jennifer Hanks
My ghosts see me clearly as a charred tree line. I鈥檓 a cat in a surgery lab whose spine鈥檚 been
severed. I鈥檓 a boy with a vigorous hair flip. I鈥檓 a boy with burning hair & the cerulean
eyes
of romance heroes. You鈥檝e stopped believing me now, but the ghosts bring me super
soakers to fight the neighbors, long since gendered & grown up. You鈥檝e stopped believing
me now, but I鈥檓 the one in the story with hands for eyes. The fir tree rustling with
ash.
My bravest ghost splits open at the chest, offers me a duelist鈥檚 sword like we鈥檙e in an episode
of Revolutionary Girl Utena. You鈥檝e stopped believing me now, but I鈥檒l cut a Midnight Supreme
off your bustier. Toss my velvet hair and claim a scorched & empty win.