i am small
staple my character to a midnight curtain
on a creaking stage while a high school
performs their rendition of Julius Caesar
with retractable knives and marinara blood.
duct tape my fears to the right thigh
of a porcelain doll covered in dust,
forced to listen to its wooden house crack
as it buckles under the weight of the compactor.
take a hot glue gun to my health
and mush it between the pages of a coloring book
filled with scribbles of greens and purples
from a young girl who left Neverland with a toe tag.
pin my thoughts to the back of a snail
that winds through a concrete blacktop
to find a spot of shade under a weed,
away from salt and sneakers.
string these all together with pipe cleaners and twine
for the nights I forget how to come home,
and I’ll hear them clink:
the chimes that hang in my window.
William Godbey has work that has appeared in several publications, including the Chiron Review, Misfit Magazine, and Slipstream Press. He is currently pursuing a BA in English from California State University Long Beach, where he currently lives. He is 21 years old.