Literary Orphans

Another Garage by Jada Yee


The windows that I’ve sewn closed

are whispering again.


The blanket, pulling itself out from the draw

slips over my shoulders;

the dream of being caressed;

the apparition sings me defeat,


until melancholy is not only a comparable bruise from the past,

but a blinding burden in the present.


And that familiar desperation I feel

when I begin to listen to the whispers,

revives my daring resolve;

my irrational courage.


Euthanizing what is called “personal growth.”


Sever every smile.

Cut every protesting seedling.


Can’t you see I’m nearing the ceiling too quickly?

And I feel in my heart, that I am not meant to be this tall.


Here I am

thinking of ways to sever myself.


I wish that being locked in a dark garage could still be enough.


I learned very well

to be quiet

to stay still

to not cry.


Today, these skills are simple.

Today, I am likeable. I am loved.


And today, I wish darkness could be my only fear.

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Jada Yee’s work has appeared in Poydras Review, The Paragon Journal, The Birds We Piled Loosely, The Sacred Cow Magazine, among others.

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–Art by Kaia Pieters