There’s a bus yanking me through, barely a canary
A raven rather, black with me tucked in its ruffled side,
Wheezing immorality clutches my hand, refusing to pass by
He rattles in my ear, A bird can’t fly
And I’ll wriggle under his beak, a sick worm aflame in her own volition
with the ambition—
Of a nestling blue heron, scrambling from the sticks, I, he eats
And he’ll finish twittering his ugly sentiment
of never stealing another’s eye.
and with me, my dream and I, this life’s misleading mien, he’ll mortify
Riley Grace Borden is a Running Start student from Washington state who is an avid reader, writer, and blogger. She has won keys in Scholastic Arts and Writing, and been published by Teen Ink Magazine, Sprout, and The Mercer Island Reporter. In her free time, she enjoys student-run international editing groups, reading classics, and distance running.